


Rings

by GydroZMaa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 69,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GydroZMaa/pseuds/GydroZMaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his sixteenth birthday, Emil Steilsson, prince of Crodinia, receives an unusual gift from his brother: an Altorienese prisoner of a finished war who calls himself "Leon." With the passing of time, however, Emil realizes there might be more to his pet than meets the eye and slowly falls into a twisted, inescapable love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a pleasant story. As labeled by the mature rating, the themes involved might not be suitable for adolescents. You have been notified.
> 
> And without further ado, let us begin.

Despite it being early summertime, a light snowfall covers the kingdom of Crodinia on the prince's sixteenth birthday. He made it clear the week before that he does not want visitors coming to the castle to save him the trouble of remembering their names and titles; however, the king wants to make an example of his kingdom and have an excuse to drink and feast—mostly to drink and feast.

As the lines of carriages and horses ride in with the royal passengers, the prince stares out from his balcony and loses himself in thought, the names of kingdoms slipping off his tongue.

"The Unity of Dotriba," he murmurs, as recognized by the bold triad of black, blue, and gold, all noble and powerful colors belonging to an even more powerful union.

"The Alliance of Thursaunia," he then recognizes by the recently changed banner under the marriage of a king and queen from neighboring and allying kingdoms. Their new flag bears a rugged stallion with the gallant wings of an eagle. While not the most intimidating of banners, the new Kingdom of Thursaunia is strong enough to hold its peace against Dotriba, and that alone is worthy of respect for its winged horse.

"The United Kingdom of Tabrini." A collection of four provinces rule under a single family; each province is overseen by one of four brothers. Its naval forces are as impressive as is its conquest of neighboring islands, expanding its influence across the ocean. That even one of the ruling brothers is attending his party is considered to be a great honor.

"Belethren," he easily names for the king's strong alliance with its ruler. It is also because of their kingdom that their alliance with Tabrini still stands.

"And…" He frowns when he sees the last royal flag waving like a ghost's sheet in the summer snow's flurries. The ends are tattered, and the flag bearer cannot be more than a peasant. Dragging behind the flag bearer are a few worn and tired men carrying a cart so shambled that it does not even have windows in its sides.

The prince is honestly surprised some of them have even made an attendance in the winter-ridden lands of Crodinia, the kingdom of the cold north. After the murder of its last emperor and pillage of the remaining heirs, this is the last place a representative of the fallen empire should be.

"Altorien."

* * *

"It's an honor to have all of you today in my grand halls, everyone!" the loud king smiles and greets his fellow neighbors with open arms and open doors. "As you know, today is my brother-in-law's sixteenth birthday, an important milestone, as he is officially an adult!"

"Here, here!" the halls ring. The prince twists his lips together and wants to look away, but his brother is watching him like a hawk. He needs to be on his best behavior in front of everyone, and so, instead he smiles and waves welcomingly to his guests.

"And without making this welcome too long, let us travel to the great halls to feast on this wonderful day!"

The prince watches as the king rises and leads his guests to the great halls where the tables are piled high with meats, breads, wine, and freshly imported produce from the warmer lands. The prince's brother, the king's husband and second-in-command of Crodinia, follows closely behind his king and takes the prince's hand.

In the halls, the kings and queens chatter about everything but politics: the health of their lands' crops, dueling, a comical fire prank set in a stable, and one instance involving sticking fish in a jester's trousers. The prince tries his best to listen and follow these conversations, as he understands he will one day have to produce his own interesting tales to tell. Occasionally he shares some information about how he has taken up riding or wants to travel across the seas, but other than that, he has little to offer in light of the older kings' and queens' adventures.

Sensing how uncomfortable he becomes, the prince's brother excuses himself and takes his brother out to the courtyard for a breather.

"How is everything doing, dear little brother?" he asks him as they walk along the stone paths dusted with a fine coating of snow.

The prince takes a while to respond, his heart heavy and his stomach stuck between deciding whether he is hungry or sick.

"Terribly," he finally speaks out. He is never dishonest with his brother. He never tells a lie. Born into royalty with only his brother as his life-long companion, he is the only one he ever trusts and obeys without hesitation. If he tells his brother of a problem, his brother will provide the solution.

"Why are you feeling so ill on your sixteenth birthday?" his brother asks, running a hand over his fair snow-white hair to comfort him. The prince lazily closes his eyes to absorb the gentle sensation of his brother's touch. He is never fond of anyone touching him save for his brother alone. When his nerves are loosened, he tells his brother of his predicament.

"I don't know if I can do this." He sweeps his arm towards the arch leading back to the great hall. "All this socializing and parties…it's not me, brother. I don't know any of these people, and I don't want to. I don't like them."

His brother sighs and plants a gentle kiss atop his head. "Sweet little brother, it is all a part of being a king. In the event that Mathias and I are not here to rule, you have to take responsibility and keep your alliances. Socializing is an important part of it, and the sooner you understand that, the better."

The prince blinks away the flurries from his lavender orbs. "But even then, I never see you speak to lengths with the king." He closes his eyes when his brother cups his cheeks and kisses him again.

"That is because I am his shadow to his light. If he needs the support, I will be there for him. If there are those who doubt him, it is my job to convince them otherwise. And if his body longs for comfort, I provide him with that. That is the duty of someone married to a king. You will understand that one day, little brother."

At his words, the prince leafs through his memories and remembers the instances when his brother supported his husband. In times when they were warring, his brother's intellect and solid grasp of strategy helped them push back invaders and contain their lands. When the king's own council doubted his aloof nature and easygoing demeanor, his brother stepped in and told them of how much his people loved their king and his strong, unrelenting heart. As for his body, the prince does not have to recall any specific moment in time. There are plenty of nights when he wakes up to the sounds of his brother and the king making mad love to each other in their chambers.

The brothers remain outside for a short period of time before deciding to rejoin their king in the halls. On their way, the prince's brother quizzes him on the banners of the guests to pass the time. The prince remembers all of them, but when he arrives at the last one he remembers, his voice falls into a whisper.

"Altorien," he says. "Brother, why are they here? I thought that we—"

"Whether friend or foe, your birthday was meant to be a celebration of the peace that we've finally achieved," his brother cuts him off. "And considering you've reached adulthood, the celebration is bigger. We are not welcoming them as enemies. The war is over. They are ours now."

His brother, the prince notices, never uses the word "ally" to describe them, and he can understand why: after being a rising power for so long, the emperor of Altorien once threatened to swallow the other kingdoms until a grand gathering of several rulers rose up and fought against the emperor's armies. After many bloody years of fighting, the royal family in Altorien was executed, and the last of its reign ended. With all of Altorien scattered into small, confused groups, the rest of the kingdoms tore the empire apart piece by piece like vultures ripping off the flesh of a rotting carcass. Many people were enslaved and converted within the conquering kingdoms until Altorien was only mentioned in history as a dead empire with a fruitless purpose. The prince was twelve years old when news arrived that the emperor of Altorien had been dethroned and killed by Crodinian forces.

For the prince to see an Altorien flag, however, must mean there are still people who are loyal to the old empire and family. Even if it is just a peasant, the prince finds it strange that the king will have granted him passage into their castle. While strong and brave, the king has never been too sharp on the intellectual side. The prince wonders if perhaps he wants to show the Altorienese how grand Crodinia can be.

"Speaking of the Altorienese, I have a surprise for you, dear brother."

"A surprise?" the prince repeats, wondering what his brother can possibly give him on an important birthday; he usually ends up giving him something practical like a cloak from Tabrini or a knife carved with steel forged in Thursaunia. Thinking about it makes him excited. After being so preoccupied with his previous studies about the neighboring kingdoms, a present is something he looks forward to receiving. There is no doubt that whatever it is, it will be something wonderful.

With the promise of getting a surprise, the prince's spirits stay in tact for the rest of the evening until the night grows old and the cooks are too exhausted to continue cooking. The wine cellars are nearly empty, and the royal guests withdraw into their provided and guarded chambers for the night. The great hall falls silent, and outside, the snowfall blankets the castle grounds with a fresh new sheet of white.

The young prince is not tired like the rest of the castle, however. His eyes are still bright even as the last of the departing guests bid him good fortune and prosperity. He thanks them for the wonderful day and for travelling such a great distance to visit their kingdom. His presents lay opened and carefully moved to designated spots around the castle, some being displayed in the courtyards, others mounted on walls specifically for allying kingdoms, and others in his own chambers like a glass lamp blown and crafted with the intricate patterns of an ice crystal.

Out of all the gifts, the prince enjoys his new lamp the most. Not only does it look beautiful in the candlelight, it is a gift from his distant uncle who reigns in another part of Crodinia, bringing it some sentimental value. Before retiring for the night, he gazes upon the ice crystal patterns that dance in his chamber walls. With its blues and whites and pinks, he feels at ease looking at the display. His eyes are so lost in his new lamp that he nearly fails to hear his brother opening his door and letting himself inside.

"Brother, come with me," he says in a quiet voice so as not to disturb the royal guests.

The prince turns over his shoulder and remembers his brother has not given him his gift yet.

"I know it's late, but I wanted to give you your gift before your birthday was over," he whispers. "You have to be very quiet so we do not wake the guests. We have to make a small journey. In order to retrieve your gift, we are going to go into the dungeon."

A chill runs through the prince's body when the destination is named. Of all the places, he hates the dungeon the most. It is a cold, dark place unlike any other in the castle, and on windy nights, the corridors howl with ghostly moans that haunt his memories.

"Why the dungeons?" he wearily asks.

"Because that is where your present is," his brother tells him, petting his head and stroking his cheek with a reassuring caress. "We could not put it anywhere else. Someone would have found it and taken it away. You can be brave, little brother. You are sixteen now." He kisses his forehead and rubs his shoulders. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," the prince softly answers. His voice is so soft that it can barely register as a whisper. He is afraid, but as an adult, now, he needs to build up his courage. It is not as if he is going alone; his brother will be there, and he is sure there will be several guards manning the posts underground. He can be brave.

* * *

The dungeon resides deep underneath the castle chambers on the far end of the west. While there are multiple openings, the main entrance resides in what can be considered a forgotten portion of the castle that only the most dangerous of convicts go to. The prince once questioned why anyone would allow the most dangerous people in the kingdom to be so close to the king. His brother replied by telling him that it is important to keep one's friend's close but one's enemies closer.

To the prince's relief, they are escorted by four guards walking on all sides. They descend through multiple flights of stairs that spiral downward until they reach leveled ground. The temperature down in this place is exceedingly colder than the prince's chambers, and he wishes he brought something more than a simple robe.

The prince's brother moves through the dungeon's bars, never flinching at the soft moaning of the prisoners of war and crime. The prince wishes to hold his hand as he did in the past, but he reminds himself that he is sixteen today. So as long as his brother is here, however, he already feels invincible.

"Stop here," the prince's brother says and holds up a hand to halt the guards. He turns to the left and stares ahead. The prince does the same. In front of them, there is a faint flickering light of a candle. In this darkness, it looks like the brightest star, and the prince cannot help but feel drawn to its source. His brother walking alongside him, he approaches the light until someone else comes into view. His heart nearly stops when he sees who it is: the flag bearer of Altorien.

"Open it," the prince's brother orders. Behind him, there is a heavy wooden door that the Altorienese man wordlessly opens. The prince's throat runs dry with anticipation. What is it, he wonders? A magnificent weapon, perhaps? A great magic scroll that needs to be contained away from sunlight? Or maybe even a young fire-breathing dragon that he can call his own?

Alas, his imagination gets the better of him. As soon as the door opens, a foul, indescribable stench wafts out and stings the prince's eyes. Unable to help himself, he holds his sleeve to his nose and gasps for air. Whatever is in there is most likely something he does not want to see. Suddenly, fear overtakes him. With the light being dim, he cannot see beyond the darkness that cloaks the entrance. Something shuffles inside its depths and sets the prince on edge.

Without warning, the prince's brother places his hands around his shoulders and starts to whisper. It is all the prince can do to suppress a startled scream from echoing in the dungeon.

"You may only pick  _one_. One, and that is all."

"One what?" the prince wants to ask, but his voice is lost in his gut. He chooses to trust his brother for leading him this far. Whatever lies within cannot be dangerous. His brother would never think of putting his life into jeopardy. The object that lies beyond this door cannot hurt him. Eventually, he gathers his courage and walks carefully inside the darkness beyond the door.

The stench is even more unbearable than before. The prince continues to keep his sleeve over his nose as he looks around, hoping his eyes will adjust to the darkness before he stumbles. When he walks a good five paces into the room, he turns back and sees his brother intently watching him at the entrance. His unrelenting stare offers the prince some comfort, as he knows he is not alone. He continues walking around until his foot hits something mid-step.

The prince stops. The object he kicked is firm yet soft. And that is not all. Even here in these desolate depths, it is  _warm_. It is  _alive._

Then, he hears a cough. A human cough. The prince gasps and accidentally swallows a breath full of the awful smell. He quickly covers his mouth to keep from retching.

There are people in this room.

"Hold out the light," the prince hears his brother casually say. "I don't think he can see very well in there." The man sticks his hand in the room with the single candle, and while the light is faint, he can see the contents of the room.

Eyes after eyes stare hard at the light with death glazed over. The orbs' owners have thin limbs and spider legs for fingers. Their nails are uncut and overgrown like savage cats, and their skin hugs their bones and flesh like shriveled fruit peelings left out in the baking sun. The main features the young prince can make out on all of them is what disturbs him most of all, not their frightened expressions, not the pools of urine and feces they cower in, not the rotting smell of death waiting to pluck their little heads off their necks. These are all Altorienese boys.

"Best not to dwindle, brother," the prince hears from behind. "You don't want the smell sticking to your clothes. Hurry it up, so we can go to bed."

The prince does not know how to respond to that. His mind races as he scans over the boys. Some appear as young as eight years old. Others look like they are in their late teens. He does not know for what purpose he is choosing one. Is the one he selects supposed to be weak? Submissive? Attractive?

"Brother, I'm waiting."

The prince painfully swallows and searches with whatever composure he still has. As he approaches some of them for a better look, the boys shy away from him like frightened, cold pups taken from their mothers. Then again, with them being Altorienese children, he suspects they no longer have mothers.

He honestly does not know how to pick. Whatever cruel intent this is, he does not enjoy the responsibility of selecting any of these individuals. They are filthy, frightened creatures. He cannot even be bothered to call them human with the way they withdraw from the light. His breath short and his head spinning, the prince tries to finish his survey and choose a boy from the collection.

"Oh, for gods' sakes," the prince's brother finally snaps in an impatient tone. "If you don't pick one, I will."

The prince tells his brother to give him some time. He should at least have the luxury of picking his own present. However, with the light being faint, he is still indecisive. He is about to give up and let his brother pick someone after all when his eyes almost skip over an individual kneeling in the back.

There is something about this one that draws him in. His skin is not as flawed as the others, and his dark brown hair sweeps lower than the other boys' in an almost feminine fashion. And his  _eyes_. The prince has never seen such a color before. Even for an Altorienese, this must be a rare trait. The boy's irises are a striking shade of pure gold that glows even in the faint light. He likes the way his almond-shaped eyes slant slightly upward and the deep pink of his lips. The only trait slightly off about him is the thickness of his eyebrows, but the prince can only be so choosy when all of the others are unappealing. After looking over this boy for a few more seconds, the prince tells his brother that he has made his selection. He wants this boy.

"I pick this one."

"This one," the prince's brother echoes and scans him from his head to his feet. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," the prince nods. "This one."

"Very well. He is yours."

Unsure if he heard that correctly, the prince blinks. "Mine?"

"Your pet," his brother elaborates. "You may do whatever you want with him. Dress him, walk him, beat him." The prince refrains from making a face at that last one. "He will be your responsibility. I am not going to replace him with another if he dies. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Happy birthday, little brother."

"Th-Thank you…" he quietly stammers as he stares apprehensively at his brother's gift. The entire time, the boy says nothing and does nothing. His head bows towards the ground as most Altorienese are accustomed to. Had he been upright, he might be as tall at him. The prince thinks that is the last of his brother's words until he stops and turns to his new pet.

"And you," he says. "Do you understand Crodinian?"

The boy does not move a muscle. The prince's brother sighs and changes his attention to the Altorienese man holding the candle. "Translate this for me," he orders and begins to speak. All the while, the man speaks in what the prince can only assume is Altorienese.

"If I so much as see one scratch on my brother or one tear fall from his eyes, I am going to make you wish you were never born. You Altorienese aren't the only ones famous for their methods of torture. We have ways of keeping you alive even when all the skin is peeled off your body and your limbs are crushed and eaten away at until you are nothing. But. A. Stump."

The prince is silent. He saw these methods of torture when the war was nearing its end. His brother and the king made him watch as traitors and prisoners of war were beaten, flogged, skinned, and slowly bled to death as a cruel reminder of what happens when people declare an attack on Crodinia. Even if they are the worst people in the world, the prince cannot imagine ever wishing that type of suffering on anyone.

All the while, the prince's brother continues. "You are to obey my brother at all costs. If he believes you should be punished, you will take it without a word. You will be his shield in the event he might be harmed. You are disposable to him, and you are disposable to me. I am the king's husband. My word rises above my brother's. If I believe you are not fit to be my brother's pet, I will have you killed. If my husband, the king, wants that, so be it. Do you understand?"

When the Altorienese translator finishes speaking, the boy soundlessly nods, never looking at the prince or his brother.

"Good. We're leaving now. Little brother, don't fall behind and lose him in the dungeon. He won't find his way out if you do."

"Yes, brother," the prince says and signals for his pet to follow closely behind him. He does not offer his hand to the boy, as his palms are caked with dirt, grease, and what appears to be old blood. He is not even sure if the blood on his hands is his.

When they exit the dungeon through the stairwell, the prince feels relieved to finally have some crisp, fresh air again. He looks back at his pet to make sure he is not exhausted from climbing the stairs, and when he sees his expression is as blank as before, he leads him towards the bathhouse to cleanse him of the grime and foreign particles off his body. The prince finds late-night servants and orders them to prepare a bath for the Altorienese boy while he goes off to find his brother who has since gone off elsewhere.

The prince eventually finds his brother also preparing for a bath in the royal bathhouse that was separately built from the one used for guests. He eagerly takes his clothes off and tosses them aside, exposing his pale, creamy skin that his husband loves to fondle so much.

"Um, brother…?" the prince hesitantly calls to him as he sits on the edge. As his brother resurfaces from the hot waters, he cannot help taking off his boots and soaking his feet to soothe his bones.

As he sits, his brother goes over to him and brings his hands out to his feet. He massages them and, with a wet cloth, wipes between his toes until they are free of dirt.

"What did you come here for?" he asks as he immerses himself back in the water. "You should be watching over your pet. He is your responsibility, remember?"

"I know," the prince says. "I was just..." He struggles to find the word. "Confused?"

"Why should you be? You're an adult, and before that, you were a decently responsible boy. Your pet should not give you any trouble."

That is not what the prince is concerned about. "Why an Altorienese boy?"

His brother runs some water over his blonde hair and cleans his face. The prince waits for him to finish before continuing.

"I thought you'd like something different," he says. "You've told me you've grown tired of seeing the same boring faces, so I thought having an Altorienese pet would be something to brag about."

The prince blinks. "Is that all you see him as? A different breed of pet?"

"And soon to be rare."

"Rare?" The prince frowns. "But what about all those other boys in the dungeon?"

"They're prisoners, and not very good ones, I have to admit," the prince's brother spits with distaste. "I asked for the best, too. I don't want to think about what the worst were like. They'll just be a waste of space and resources. In any case, brother, you don't have to worry about them. I've ordered the soldiers to kill them."

The prince's blood runs cold. His heart sinks into his chest at those words. All the others he did not pick are going to die. He could have saved someone else, but instead, he chose that singular boy just because he looked different. Now he knows why his brother said he cannot replace his pet—there will be no others to replace him with.

Another thought disturbs him. "Who was that man in there? The translator?"

His brother almost looks amused. "You're quite the curious one over the background of your pet's former empire."

Embarrassed, the prince's cheeks grow red, and his head hangs. "I'm sorry," he shamefully apologizes.

"Don't be. I didn't tell you about it, so it's only natural you have questions." He explains, "The man was charged with bringing Altorienese across the empire and into safe places all over the kingdoms."

The prince's posture straightens. "So, in other words, he was a sai—"

"Traitor. He's going to be executed with the rest of the boys later tonight." The prince's brother casually yawns as if the matter is as trivial as signing a document. "I'd have them do it in the morning, but the king wants to go hunting with some of the others. I'll need to wake up early tomorrow."

"I-I see…"

His brother rises from the steaming water, his body glistening and steaming from the heat contrasting against the cold. He approaches his brother and digs his wet fingers into his silvery locks. The prince closes his eyes when he feels his brother's warm breath on his cheek.

"Ah, little brother…" he sighs, softly smiling. "Do not worry about it. Think of this as your first step to seeing if you are fit to rule. This is a perfect gift for you."

"Then why didn't you have any…pets?" The last word tastes foreign on his tongue. He wonders if he should use that word when addressing his gift.

"Silly little brother," he chuckles. "I have you to dote over now and always."

"Oh." The prince falls quiet.

His brother pats his head. "You should go take a bath, too. It's been a long day, and the trip to the dungeon must have left some stench on you. Go wash up. Perhaps you can teach your pet how to bathe properly. I doubt there are any male servants to attend to him at this hour of the night."

"Yes, brother," the prince obediently nods and takes his leave. He removes his feet from the water, shudders at the brief cold spell, puts his boots on, and leaves his brother to bathe in peace.

* * *

When the prince returns to the guest bathhouse, the water is already prepared with the strongest herbs and minerals the servants can provide. He dismisses the servants, as they are women, and finds his gift sitting idly where he left him.

"Hey, um," he starts, "the bath is ready for you. You need to take off your clothes, so you can wash yourself off."

The boy makes no attempt to respond. Sighing, the prince remembers the language barrier between the two of them. While there are similar language roots in nearly every neighboring kingdom, Altorien has its own unique language and writing system that differs from Crodinian entirely. The prince will have to teach this boy how to understand Crodinian if he is to give him any commands or talk to him. Until then, he has to settle with taking care of things with actions.

"I'll just take off your clothes, then," he says and reluctantly makes a grab at the boy's paper-thin tunic. Immediately after his fingers touch him, the boy yanks his body away and holds tightly onto his clothes. The prince's eyes grow wide when he sees what sort of reaction the boy makes: defiance. He is not afraid of getting his clothes removed; rather, he does not  _want_  his clothes removed.

"Remove your clothes," he commands, using a firm tone of voice to assert himself. "If you don't, I'll have you publicly stripped and whipped."

He feels both foolish and guilty for saying those things. For one, he does not want to see the boy stripped naked and flogged, nor does he believe the boy can understand his Crodinian. With a heavy heart and a heavier spirit, he makes another attempt at the boy's clothes. This time, the boy does not pull away however hesitant he is about letting someone else touch him.

After some persuasion and patience, the prince manages to remove the boy's hands and strip off his tunic. Underneath, the boy's ribs are showing through his light olive skin, and his stomach line is thin and shrunk. Despite that, the prince can recognize muscles when he sees them. The boy's abdominal area still betrays sculpted muscles where they should otherwise be flat. Even his arms are noticeably thick around the bicep areas for someone who was taken prisoner. He must have been a hard laborer, the prince believes as he kneels down and carefully undoes his pet's trousers.

"Easy," he softly whispers when he detects some resistance. The boy's legs squeeze together to prevent him from pulling his trousers down. The prince tries to be patient with him. He can only imagine how he must be feeling, being brought to a foreign land, traded off as a pet, and being stripped by another man. The prince, seeing that it is pointless to force his pet, decides to make an example of himself.

He stands back up and juts his pet's chin to face him. "Look at me," he orders and stares into his golden eyes, making sure to never face away from him. He slowly starts to undo his robe and loosens the ties. When the belts are removed, he slides his robe off and begins removing his tunic. A cool breeze engulfs his skin, and he faintly shudders despite supposedly being adjusted to cold weather. Inside, the prince is embarrassed. He should not be exposing himself to his pet like this; it is something that should only be reserved for his closest servants. All the same, he makes an example of himself to show the boy it is alright to display to him his body. His cheeks growing warm, he loosens the strap around his trousers and leggings, casting aside the last of his garments.

"It's your turn," he says and hastily pulls his pet's hands away from his lower body. Disregarding the boy's silent protests, he yanks down his trousers and tells him to step into the water.

"Hurry before you catch a cold," he commands, keeping his eyes as fixated to the boy's face as much as possible. In truth, he wants to find something to cover the both of them up so they will not have to gaze upon each other's nakedness; however, the prince assumes the boy has never bathed in his life from the looks of him. It also should not matter by technicalities. Had his pet been a lion or a wolf, he would not be afraid of strutting bare-skinned around it. The prince will have to properly teach him how to bathe if he is to do it by himself one day. As he thinks of this, he remembers his brother's words. Rather than a pet, his brother had him to dote on, his little prince.

In that sense, he wants to try his best to pamper and raise this boy. His brother raised him well in the absence of their parents, and he became someone beautiful and humble, a figure loved by his people in the same regards the people of Crodinia love their king and his husband. The prince, he supposes, wants to turn his pet into someone beautiful, too, someone he can be proud of. His spirits and hopes high, he leads the boy to the tray of oils and sweet-scented soaps so he may cleanse him.

It is made clear in the first few attempts of scrubbing his skin that the boy is absolutely filthy. Dirt stubbornly clings to his skin like grease on old dishrags, and his hair is matted down with layers upon layers of grease, dandruff, and flecks of lice. At this rate, the prince wonders how peasants are able to cope with such an unsanitary lifestyle. He focuses his energy on cleaning his pet and scrubs vigorously until raw patches appear on the boy's skin.

The prince does not apologize, as he reminds himself that his gift is a pet and no longer considered human. "I have to clean you so you don't…ungh! Stink up the chambers…!" He takes a breather and sinks into the water, exhausted by exactly how much work is invested into bathing someone. His brother never complained when cleaning him, so he will not, either. Once he soaks his body into the herbal waters enough, he stands back up and pours oils over the boy's skin, hoping to combat the grease and fight his urine-caked stench.

Over time, the boy's smell fades, and the lice shed from his hair; his skin is rubbed raw and sore, though most of the dirt and grime is gone, and his face is clear and clean. The prince does not admit this out loud, but he finds the boy rather attractive now that he is cleansed. Give or take with some food in his belly and a few proper manners later, he will prove to be very handsome and likable. He clearly has a rugged appearance about him that the prince and his brother lack: his jaw is more defined and his muscles are atrophic but developed and shaped. The prince rather likes these qualities about his pet.

As he continues to inspect and observe his new pet, the prince's enthusiasm for his brother's gift grows. This might work after all, he thinks—a person to pamper and care for all on his own. He will teach him how to speak Crodinian and play chess. They will be able to talk about life in the castle while eating sweet cakes, and he will read fairytales to him. When the time comes, they will be able to ride together and even hunt alongside one another. And as the days grow shorter and the nights longer, the prince will have someone to keep him company indoors and cuddle next to by the fireplace. It will be like having a friend, but instead, this boy is his own property. It is like his brother said: he can do whatever he wants with him.

Their bathing finished, the prince leads his cleansed pet out of the bath and onto the carpeted floors. He first wraps a robe around himself and then his pet, making sure every part of him is dry so as not to catch the chill of the nightly cold. Once that is in order, he takes him out of the bathhouse and towards the sleepwear provided by the dismissed servants.

"Here," he says as he opens his pet's robes and hands him a set of sleepwear. "These are for you. Dress in them." To demonstrate, he dresses into his sleepwear and throws his damp robe on the floor.

"Dress," he repeats and orders. To his delight, the boy does the same and rather efficiently. At least he is not entirely hopeless. Because he has properly completed a task, the prince decides to give him some positive reinforcement.

"Very good," he chooses to say and smiles, a rare occurrence nowadays with his weighing responsibilities. The boy blinks and says nothing as he waits for another command.

Next, the prince decides it is time for bed. He tells his pet to follow him with a beckoning signal and walks off in the direction of his chambers. Again, he happily finds that the boy obediently follows him all the way to his chamber doors. Here, he tells his pet that this is where he will sleep from now on. With those words out of the way, he leads the boy inside and prepares him for bed.

"Since I am a virgin unlike my brother," he speaks while taking some covers from his bed, "the bed is not big enough for the two of us. You'll have to sleep on the ground." He realizes it is pointless talking to the boy right now, but he finds comfort in being able to freely converse with someone besides the wind and the walls.

"Here we are." He makes a crude attempt to fold his covers and set them over his rug so the boy will not have backaches in the morning. "Lie down," he orders and points to the sheets. The boy silently obeys and sits on the sheets. The prince almost smiles when he sees his pet running his fingers over the soft fabrics. He is like a quiet, yet observant dog but more intelligent and obedient. Since his pet is in position, he drapes the last of his covers over him and sets him on his back. Lastly, he tucks a pillow under his head and pats his head as he might a dog.

"Very good," he remembers to say and is about to retreat when something crucial comes to mind. "That's right. I need to call you something. Let's see…" He ponders over how to go about introducing himself to his new pet and decides to sit over him.

"My name is Emil Steilsson, prince of Crodinia." He points to his chest and repeats his first name. "Emil." He points again and repeats. "Emil." Then, he points to his pet and silently waits, hoping to get a response. It is cute the way the boy stares up at him from outside his covers. The only things he can see are his dark hair and slanted golden eyes that practically saved his life.

To the prince's disappointment, the boy does not answer with anything after being pointed at. He thinks he needs to try again when he suddenly speaks with a strain in his voice.

"L—" He abruptly pauses as if struggling to even make a sound. "Le…on."

The prince cocks his head and tries to make out the name. "Leon…?"

The boy nods with an alert glint in his eyes. So that is his name. Odd, though. Considering he is Altorienese, the prince believes he would have had an exotic and hard-to-pronounce name. He cannot complain, however. "Leon" is far easier to say than anything in Altorienese.

"Well, Leon, starting today, you are my pet." The prince chooses his words to not sound too overly arrogant or pompous. "I know you can't understand me, but if you listen to me, I will treat you well. You've made it this far." Leon does not say anything, and so the prince simply decides to bid him goodnight.

"Goodnight, Leon," he says and returns to his bed. He hears no response as expected from someone who cannot understand Crodinian and stares at the ceiling until he can fall asleep. Overhead, the colorful lights from his uncle's birthday gift dance on his ceiling and cast lovely shapes of snowflakes and ice crystals. It is truly a wonderful gift, but as his eyelids grow heavy and his breathing deepens, the prince thinks that in his entire life, his best birthday present is lying silently on the floor by his bedside and he belongs entirely to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is on my other account, but I'm the kind of person who doesn't care so long as this is a backup account. Enjoy~
> 
> \-----
> 
> References for the kingdoms:
> 
> Crodinia: Anagram of "Nordic" + ia
> 
> Altorien: Anagram of "Oriental"
> 
> Dotriba: Anagram of "Bad trio"
> 
> Thursaunia: Anagram of "Austria" + "Hun"
> 
> Tabrini: Anagram of "Britain"
> 
> Belethren: Anagram of "Nether" + "Bel"


	2. His Actions

Hunting bugles awake the prince before the crack of dawn, followed by men shouting and horses neighing off in the distance. The prince's eyelids flutter open, and he rises from his covers and stretches. He nearly jumps from his bed when a protruding lump under his spare covers rises and falls in heavy rhythm, stopping him in place. When he remembers he is sixteen years old, the prince sees his brother's birthday present and quietly hovers over his pet.

"You must've been through a lot," he mouths and watches his pet sleep for a moment before deciding it is best to get him into a steady habit of rising early. Today, he will have to teach him how to dress and eat properly, and if time allows it, he will teach him how to speak a few phrases in Crodinian. With his plans mapped out for the day, the prince rests a hand on the lump and gently shakes him.

"Leon," he whispers. "Leon, you need to wake up. Dawn is here."

The boy does not stir. The prince shakes him slightly harder and waits for some movement to occur. After some effort, his pet's eyes slowly open, revealing those dazzling golden pools of his.

The boy does not say anything when he arises from his sheets and rubs his eyes. While watching him, the prince notices how long and unsightly his fingernails are, and he suspects his toenails are the same. After being preoccupied with cleaning his skin and hair last night, he forgot all about his nails.

"Stay here," he tells him and goes to his drawers. He fishes out a pair of iron clippers used for trimming loose ends and kneels down besides the boy.

When he first sees the clippers, the boy grows uneasy. His motions are stiff, and his eyes rapidly blink and dart around the room. When the prince approaches him, he holds back and tries to lean as far back as he dares.

"It's alright," he gently speaks. "I'm not going to hurt you if you stay still." Even so, the boy is not having any of it. Sighing, the prince decides this is one of those instances similar to swimming. He remembers when his brother first taught him how to swim; he had been afraid of the water, believing it would hurt him, but when his brother went inside unharmed, it gave him the courage to go in after him.

The prince supposes he has to make an example of himself. This is good, he thinks. It is like a small step towards ruling. A good prince with good examples can set the same for his kingdom and his subjects. "Here," he says and holds out his fingernails that are neatly trimmed, but he knows he needs to show his pet exactly what his clippers are used for. "You just do this." He takes the clippers and clips a small piece of his fingernails off and brandishes his unharmed fingers.

"See? It doesn't hurt. I'm going to trim yours now." He holds out his hand and expects his pet to give him his hand. The patience required on his part is something he really does not want to invest in, but Leon is his responsibility now. If his brother could do it, so can he.

"It's alright," he coaxes. His hand remains open and inviting. After staring at his master for some time, Leon finally hands him his palm, albeit clammy and shaky.

"You need to hold still while I do this," the prince says with intent focus. "It doesn't look like you've trimmed your nails before, so I'll have to be extra careful." He makes a soft shushing noise as he begins with his pet's left thumb. As expected but not delightful, his nails are coarse and thick. It takes a great deal of effort for him to finally chip away at the first cut before gauging just how much strength he will need.

"This will take longer than I thought," he mumbles and sets to work until he finishes an entire hand. At this point, he decides it is time for his pet to try. He hands Leon his clippers and motions for him to trim the fingernails on his right hand. There is some hesitation, but after some time, his pet manages to take the clippers into his hands and starts with his right thumb. The prince is delighted.

"Very good," he smiles and watches him work. There are instances when he fears his pet will accidentally slip and cut himself, but his fingers prove to be very dexterous and careful despite their callousness. Soon, both sets of fingernails are trimmed. Now they may finish his toenails so he can properly wear boots.

"Now the toes," the prince says and takes his pet's covers all the way off. He points to his toenails that are riddled with cracks and chips and gestures for his pet to clip those, too.

Without any other words or help, the boy manages to clip all ten of his toenails until they are all clean. The prince smiles and offers him positive verbal reinforcement before patting him on the head.

"Very good," he says and takes the clippers away. He shows his pet where he keeps them and tucks them back into their designated drawer. "Now we can dress."

The prince notices that when his pet stands upright with his head facing forward, they are roughly the same height. This will make fitting him into clothes easier, since it means being able to share a wardrobe, though the prince suspects his brother will strongly disapprove if he finds his pet wearing the same status of clothes as royalty. Still, the prince has not had the time to contact a tailor, so he can ride on the excuse that his pet needs clothes for a while.

With that, the prince goes over to his wardrobe and opens it, revealing an assortment of dark, cool-colored robes, tops, and tunics. He demonstrates how he dons his daily clothes and proceeds to hand his pet a set of clothing to see how fast he has learned. Leon easily manages to change out of his sleepwear and into his attire for the day, and this earns him another expression of praise. Since the two of them are dressed, they leave the prince's chambers and head towards the great hall for breakfast.

The prince and his pet encounter servants and foreigners from yesterday's party wandering around the corridors as they go to breakfast. Some stare at the prince or whispered in groups as they pass, while others wish the prince a good morning, and he returns the greeting.

"You should try to learn that, too," he thinks aloud and stops to teach his pet. "Good morning," he says to him. He has to think of some way to register it is a greeting to his pet and thinks about Altorienese customs. One such custom, he remembers, involves bowing; the Altorienese have a way of bowing to one another when they greet each other, he recalls. To test his recollection, he faces his pet and bows in front of him.

"Good morning," he says to him and waits for a response. The boy blinks, and returns the bow but does not say anything.

"No." The prince shakes his head. He props his pet's chin to face him and tries again. "Good morning," he repeats and bows. He then waits to see if his pet will do the same.

"Goo' mor'ing," he speaks in broken Crodinian. It is not the best pronunciation, but the prince understands Altorienese completely differs in dialect. He will have to teach his pet to pronounce his words correctly so as not to displease his brother and the king.

"Close enough. Very good, Leon." To reward him, he pats him on the head like a dog and tells him to trail after him. It is not long before they reach the great hall where most of the kings have gone out to hunt. The only formidable kings the prince recognizes are Roderich of Thursaunia and Francis, one of the three kings of Dotriba, both considered to be their own levels of refined, and it only makes sense that they have not joined the hunt with the others.

The prince's white hair, easily identifiable even in large crowds, draws attention to the kings, and they invite him to sit next to him, congratulating him of reaching adulthood and offering him wine.

"So you're finally sixteen, Emil," Francis warmly smiles as he pours himself a generous helping of wine. Of the three kings in Dotriba, Francis enjoys food and drink the most despite not growing fat and portly.

"Yes, Your Highness," the prince nods. All the while, his pet sits quietly alongside a wall, as he is not permitted to sit anywhere near the kings.

"Sixteen is a big year. You are old enough to reign over your own house, and you can travel without the aid of your family."

Roderich, after wiping his mouth, adds, "You can even marry if you want to."

The prince awkwardly smiles at the thought of marrying. "When the time comes that my brother finds someone suitable for me, I believe only then will I know who my bride is."

Francis clicks his tongue and heartily pats the young prince's back. "You don't have to listen to Lukas, Emil," he laughs. "You're an adult now. You can make your own decisions. And considering he's your king's husband, who's to say you have to marry a woman?"

The prince's face grows hot at the thought of having a husband. He has always wondered what his brother's and his king's romantic relationship is like behind those closed doors. His brother is never vocally pronounced when speaking to him or his subjects, and yet as soon as night falls and his husband joins him in bed, an entire chorus of unspeakable noises cries out from his lungs. Even so, the prince imagines he will have to take up a woman for a bride to please his brother and pass on the kingdom.

"Don't fill the boy with vulgar thoughts," Roderich snaps at Francis. He has never been too fond of the flirtatious king's bold ideals and prefers a traditional lifestyle. The fact that the king even has a husband still baffles him, but his wife, the queen, thinks otherwise.

"Ah, what would your darling Elizabeta say to that, Roddy?" Francis sighs and rests his elbows on the table.

The Thursaunian king wrinkles his nose and adjusts his spectacles. The prince has heard about his unusual relationship with his queen: while the king is classy and reserved, his wife, Elizabeta, is said to be robust, and open-minded. In fact, it just might be that she is not sitting beside her husband for breakfast because she is hunting with the other kings.

"Firstly, don't call me 'Roddy,' Frog," Roderich snaps at the Dotriban king. "Secondly, I assume my wife would be…" He sighs. "…open to whatever form of love Prince Emil chooses to accept."

"You see?" Francis smiles at the prince. "If Roddy's wife thinks it's fine, then it is fine."

"I thought I told you not to call me 'Roddy,' Frog."

"Would you like some wine, Emil?" the Dotriban king asks, ignoring the Thursaunian completely.

"Yes, please, Your Highness," the prince nods and holds his goblet out for the king to pour. While drinking, hot plates of food arrive at the table, and the kings' chatter falls into soft murmuring as they dine. The prince talks with the kings here and there, listening to their tales of love when his thoughts wander back to his pet at the mention of one of Francis' Altorienese lovers.

"Ah. Excuse me, Your Highnesses. I need to take care of something." He excuses himself from his seat, carrying an extra plate of food and utensils and wanders off in the direction of the wall. The kings curiously observe from their seats as they watch the young prince hand a dark-haired boy a fork. They cannot hear what the prince is saying to the boy, but they know enough that he is trying to teach the boy how to use the pitchfork-like utensil. The boy's fingers fumble a few times before being able to firmly grasp it in the correct hold. Then, the prince demonstrates how to eat using the fork until the boy manages to eat potatoes and steamed fish all on his own—and eat he can.

Like a hungry dog that was granted with a steaming, juicy leg of lamb, the boy ferociously digs into his plate and stuffs his mouth until bits of potato and corn stick to his lips and cheeks. The prince quickly stops the boy and hastily returns to the table to grab a napkin. He gives the kings an apologetic nod before returning back to the boy. The kings say nothing at this exchange and continue to watch the prince clean up the boy and ease him to slow down.

Finally, after what must be a painstaking ten minutes, the prince returns to his seat covered in stray food splatters from his shining tunic to his white hair.

Roderich wrinkles his nose in distaste and adjusts his spectacles once more. "You look filthy," he flatly remarks. "Is that how you do things here in Crodinia? Teaching mad servant boys how to eat and use table manners?"

Francis throws the Thursaunian a disapproving look before inquiring whom that boy is.

"I'm sorry about that," the prince apologizes and lowers his eyes to the table as a sign of humbling himself. "He is my brother's birthday gift to me."

Both kings exchange shocked but amused glances.

"He is a…servant?" Francis guesses.

"No, Your Highness. He is my pet."

"Your pet?" the kings echo.

"Yes. He is Altorienese."

"Huh." The Thursaunian king now displays a different sort of interest towards the boy and looks in his direction. The boy is still eating, trying as best he can to use his fork. "Fascinating. Though for the light of me, I cannot bring myself to imagine why Lukas would give you someone to babysit—especially an  _Altorienese_  boy."

The prince swallows and takes the king's words and tone into consideration. It is understandable that anyone should feel uneasy about housing an Altorienese under their roof: they are known to be savages who do not worship any gods, barbarians who have little to no manners, and swine in that they eat anything they can get their hands on.

However, as a prince and a dignified representative of Crodinia, Emil turns this around and uses it as his strength. "My brother specifically wanted me to have an Altorienese boy as my pet because he knew the challenges it possesses to train him. He believes if I can turn him—an Altorienese—into someone obedient and submissive, then I can take on anyone." He also adds, "He was a prisoner of war. Just yesterday, had you been awake to see him, you would not have recognized him because of all the filth."

Francis gives the prince some recognition and praise for his efforts. He also adds that while no Altorienese boy can ever trick him into believing he is royalty, he admits he will have never assumed he was anything lower than a lord's son by his looks alone. The prince's heart swells with pride when Roderich eventually agrees.

"Your brother might be right, you know, Emil," Francis says before he takes his leave. "Raising you to become what you are can be similar to raising a kingdom—if only you know just how."

The prince's eyes grow wide and hungry to know. "Please, Your Highness, might you tell me what those traits are?" His answer comes in the form of a head patting as the Dotriban king chuckles and kneels to his level. In this moment the prince remembers he is still a child in the kings' eyes no matter how old he is, and a child he might always remain.

"Little Emil, that is something you need to figure out for yourself," he whispers. "But I will tell you this: it is not the results that you yield that make you a good king—it is the process."

"The process," the prince quietly repeats.

"Yes, Emil," Francis smiles and ruffles his mop of white hair. He then takes his leave and announces to Roderich and the prince that if anyone needs him, he will be out looking at the garden searching for something hopefully more beautiful than the flowers.

The prince is too naïve to understand what he is referring to, but whatever it is, it makes Roderich's eyes roll.

"That lustful fool," he groans and rubs his temples. He is ready to leave, too, but before exiting the great hall, he gives the prince a look and then his pet. His words are not as wise or meaningful as Francis' but he does leave the prince with something.

"Well, then. Emil, I wish you luck on training your…pet."

"Thank you, Your Highness," he thanks him and gives a nod his way. His eyes remain on the Thursaunian king until he disappears from view. Knowing how much of a music enthusiast he is, the prince makes a guess that he will be traveling to the music chambers to endorse in his hobbies.

Once the last of royalty is gone, the prince lets out a huge breath of relief and returns to his pet. Leon has since finished all of his food, and looks expectantly at the prince as if he will give him more.

The prince points to his pet's empty plate and asks him if he would like more. Surprisingly, the boy nods as if he understands him, and the prince eagerly fetches a new plate of food. As he watches his pet eat, he thinks of the next time the kings will visit the castle and see how groomed and civilized his pet will become. He cannot wait to show Leon to them.

* * *

The kings (and queen) return from their hunt three hours after the first bugle sounds off into the forest. The excited subjects run out to greet their rulers with water and encouraging words of their hunt. The prince and his pet are also among the crowd, surveying the banners and horses for Lukas and Mathias.

"There," he says and points his brother and the king out for his pet. "My brother, Lukas, and the king, Mathias, are over there. You can always tell who the king of Crodinia is because of his hair. Always his hair if not his loud voice."

"Good hunt, everyone!" Mathias congratulates everyone in a piercing voice. Next to him is Gilbert, another king of Dotriba, and Elizabeta, Roderich's wife and wild queen, squabbling over who shot the biggest stag.

"Are you crazy, woman? That was  _my_  arrow that hit the stag in his throat!" Gilbert shouts even louder than Mathias due to his rising temper.

"And it was  _my_  arrow that buried into the stag's leg that caused him to lag and trip, making it possible to even shoot into his throat in the first place, imbecile," Elizabeta throws back.

"Those two," the prince slightly frowns, casting developing wrinkles into his otherwise porcelain cheek lines. The rivalry between Gilbert and Elizabeta can be dated all the way back when they were children. Being part of neighboring members of royalty, the two somehow found themselves attending royal conferences and fighting to pass the time. How they manage to stay so competitive and bitter at one another is a mystery to everyone.

After the game is taken into the butchery, the prince and his pet rejoin his brother who still has sweat violently beading down his forehead. His usually wavy blonde hair clings against his neck, and his breath is short and labored from the long morning. When his face angles in the sun at the right moment, one can see his skin shimmering with a layer of moisture.

"Brother, how was the hunt?" the prince asks while he changes out of his dusty cape.

"I might have called it perfect had it not been for the quarreling between Elizabeta and Gilbert," he pants and wipes the sweat from his brow. "Ah. Your pet is looking more presentable today."

"Thank you," the prince says, trying to mask his pride at the compliment.

"Have you given him a name?"

"Leon."

"Leon," his brother repeats. "That is a Tabrinish name. Interesting choice."

Shaking his head, the prince clarifies, "You're mistaken. He  _told_  me his name is Leon."

His brother pauses and glares suspiciously at the boy whose head is bowed. Whether Leon does this because he is accustomed to it or because he wants to shield his eyes from the sunlight is unknown to him, but to the prince's brother, it appears as though he is avoiding confrontation. Emil, seeing his brother's dark expression, grows uneasy and initially believes he has done something wrong until one of the kings walks over to greet them.

"Lovely day for a stroll, isn't it, you two?" he smiles with a bright grin equivalent to the radiance of the sun. His skin noticeably darker than any members of royalty here, the prince easily recognizes who it is.

"Good morning, Your Highness," he acknowledges the third king of Dotriba, Antonio Fernández Carriedo, known as the Golden King. The prince is grateful for his presence, as it distracts his brother enough that his dark expression dissolves.

"It truly is a lovely day, Your Highness," the prince's brother agrees. "Forgive us for the unusual change in weather. Crodinia is not, and will never be, as warm and sun-basked as Dotriba."

"Not at all!" the Golden King continues to grin. "I think it's amazing how you can have snow in the summertime!"

Lukas offers the king a soft smile. "I believe as long as you remain in power, your smile will melt away any snow that tries to befall your kingdom."

The prince closely observes his brother's posture, his fleeting expressions, his tone of voice, and his aura. His brother ability to command with grace and strength never fails to amaze him. Though the prince dreads the day when he will have to conduct the same air, his brother's ease at which he transitions and represents himself as his king's husband is astounding.

"I think after this, I'm going to take a nap," the Golden King announces quite casually, akin to Crodinia's own king.

The prince's brother understandably nods and tells him it is wise to get rest before his voyage back to Dotriba. While the whole Unity of Dotriba neighbors Crodinia, Antonio reigns in the southernmost kingdom next to warmer waters and clearer skies. His journey will be the longest out of the three kings returning home.

The prince watches the conversation continue until Gilbert calls Antonio to find Francis so they may return to Dotriba. As it seems, Gilbert made a wager with Elizabeta, claiming he will be able to ride to his castle before Elizabeta and her husband return to theirs. The distances vary in that Thursaunia is farther, but Elizabeta and her stubborn nature proclaims they will be able to make it back before Gilbert even sets foot in his kingdom. With Thursaunia producing strong and swift horses, the prince cannot predict who will be the victor.

"Brother, I will be leaving you and  _Leon_ to your own activities," the prince's brother says and pats him on his head. "I need to change out of this thing. Try not to get into any trouble with your pet. If you see any kings, remember to treat them kindly."

"Of course," he replies and bids his brother good day. The rest of the hunters dissipate, too, and soon, the prince and his pet are the only ones idling in the fields.

With the noise dying down, the prince takes a deep breath of brisk summer air and cranes his head to the sky. The gray clouds are slowly moving away, and soon, it will be time for the real summer. He hopes by then, there will not be any snow so that he might go exploring in the forests on foot.

"…Gilbert? Gilbert, you mongrel! What are you still doing here?!"

Alarmed, the prince turns his head just in time to see Elizabeta storming in his direction. The wild Thursaunian queen wields a threatening stare as she stops in place, her large green eyes bearing shock at the prince.

"Oh my goodness, it's just you, Emil," she says, softening her voice and eyes. "My mistake. It's not every day you see someone with the same color of hair as that rambunctious idiot of a king." She quickly adds, "Not that you are anything like Gilbert. You are positively adorable. I wish more boys were like you."

The way in which she addresses the prince so informally bothers him, but he sets his emotions aside as he must remember she is a queen.

"Did you by any chance see Roderich?" she inquires. "I need to beat that albino idiot back home, and if I leave without my husband, I fear he will wind up somewhere all the way in Tabrini. He has a very poor sense of direction, you see."

"I-I would have never imagined," the prince picks his words. "But I did eat with him in the great hall during breakfast. I last saw him headed for the east wing."

"Oh, thank you, Emil," she smiles and kisses him on his head. The action takes the prince by surprise, as he has never been kissed by anyone besides his brother as of late—and a woman at that.

"I-I…uh…not at all, Your Highness." He grows more embarrassed when the queen starts to giggle.

"Oh, you," she smiles and brushes the prince's messy bangs from his eyes. He does not know how to react. He does not enjoy anyone else's touch but his brother's, yet Elizabeta is a queen. He imagines resisting her will result in some form of consequence, so in the meantime, he stays put and lets her touch his hair.

"Emil, you're as red as a tomato," Elizabeta giggles. "If your brother wasn't so overprotective, I'd sweep you off your feet and take you home with me in a heartbeat."

Her presence is unsettling. The sour smell of sweat sticks to her skin, and blood still clings to her long, mouse-colored hair. How this person can be a queen, a hunter, and a doting woman all at the same time renders him speechless. He supposes in her presence, he should be flattered; the queen has her own problems to worry about, and yet she is distracted by how flustered he is.

Suddenly, something unexpected and unthinkable happens. Like a dart, a hand reaches out and slaps the queen's hand away.  _Slaps_.

The prince's eyes grow as wide as eggs when a flash of dark brown hair flings in front of him. In a matter of seconds, Leon is standing before the queen in a silent stance, shielding him like a protective dog.

"Leon…!" the prince gasps, but before he can do anything else, another voice breaks into the scene.

"What in God's name…? Lizzy, what's going on?"

The tone is one of sincere concern, but in light of that, the owner is someone the prince dreads hearing it from: Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Without listening to reason, the wild-eyed, pale king of Dotriba storms over to the trio and immediately strikes out at Leon with his hand when something stops his midway. The prince is horrified to see that the clueless Altorienese boy has blocked the king's attack from striking him and frightfully commands him to stop.

"Leon, let go of him!" he yells, terrified at what consequences await the two of them for their actions. Not only did Leon slap the hand of a queen, he resisted a king. Such actions can result in punishments as far as death—and worse.

"You filthy swine!" Gilbert cries and pulls his hand free. "How dare you hold down a king!" He is about to draw his sword when the nearby queen delivers a firm blow to his head, knocking him to the ground.

"Cut that out!" she snaps and kicks him firmly in his gut. The king utters a painful groan before clutching his stomach in a ball. Had he been viewing this from afar, the prince might find it comical, but this is no joking matter. Regardless of what these two saw, the truth of the matter is that his pet dared to raise his hand against the royalty of two different kingdoms.

"He hit you…" the king moans with clenched teeth.

The queen crosses her arms and boldly presses a foot on top of Gilbert's white cape, soiling it with dirt. "And I hit you, too. Do I deserve to get punished, as well?"

After spitting, the Dotriban king reluctantly mutters a "No," but he is anything but forgiving to the prince's pet. As soon as he can stand on his feet, he looms over the prince and the boy. "Who in God's name are you?" he snarls at the Altorienese boy. "You're not royalty." He wrinkles his nose. "In fact, you're Altorienese, aren't you?"

"Gilbert, enough," Elizabeta says, but the king ignores her.

"Do you know where I come from, if you so much as make a  _threat_  on a king, your tongue gets cut off? Do you want me to cut off your hand so you can learn your place?"

The prince's face is ghost white. His heart races in his chest as he thinks of how to solve this matter. He does not want his pet lose a hand, but he does not want to displease the king and queen. He feels pathetic, helpless. Here he stands as an adult, and he cannot come up with a solution. His throat feels dry and his eyes hot. He wishes his brother were here. He will know what to do.

As Emil's thoughts race, the king seizes his pet by his collar and pulls, threatening to lift him straight off the ground. The prince is ready to break both in spirit and composure when the struggle stops with another, yet graceful voice.

"Your Highnesses, is there a problem over here?"

It is Lukas. He has already changed out of his hunting clothes and into dark regal attire fit for the husband of a king. With his cold eyes watching the incident, Gilbert angrily throws Leon down and spits a curse. His hands freed, the king marches over to the prince's expressionless brother and jabs a finger straight at his chest.

"I don't know who that boy is, but he just struck Liz—Elizabeta's hand and resisted my own. I. Want. Him. Dead."

"No!" As soon as his outcry leaves his lips, the prince immediately regrets it. Gilbert reels around and glares furious red daggers at both the prince and his pet with a murderous light. The prince realizes he must act quickly if he is to save his face and his pet.

"P-Please, Your Highness," the prince stutters, "Leon is my pet. He's my responsibility. He doesn't speak anything other than Altorienese, honest. He didn't know the two of you were royalty, and he was only acting in his best interests to protect me. If anyone should be punished, it should be me."

The prince's brother steps in before Gilbert has any time to consider what sort of punishment will entail. "Kings do not punish princes in this kingdom, I'm afraid. When someone of royal blood has done wrong, the burdens fall upon another. However, I imagine you want them to receive punishments first-handedly. Please state what punishment you believe they deserve, and I will punish both Emil and Leon accordingly to whatever you will have wished upon them."

Tears threatening to escape his eyes, the prince holds his breath and lowers his head in shame. This has not been the only time a similar sentence has been carried out. Servants and advisors are always the ones to take the burden, and if not them, it is always people who are close to the prince. The logic goes that whoever influences the prince's behavior in some form must also bear responsibility. If the prince steps out of line in mannerisms, his tutors receive an appropriate number of lashes. Should the prince fail to look presentable even when he dresses himself, the servants and maids are branded and beaten. And these are just for the prince. Fear overtakes him when he imagines what will become of his pet. Leon is not royalty, so regardless of how much he protests, there is no doubt that his pet will directly receive his punishment regardless.

"For the prince being irresponsible, fifty strikes across his palms and twenty on his bare back," the Dotriban king coldly states. The prince winces despite knowing it will not be him who receives the beating. "For his  _pet_ , a sufferable and painful death by placing him in a barrel of glass and needles and getting dragged by two horses until he bleeds dry."

The prince's brother bears no visible disturbance to the king's harsh words. Even as he speaks, he is calm and collected. "Very well, Your Highness. I will carry out the punishments as seen fit."

"Good. And I will watch them happen."

"As much as I am flattered to have your audience, I should remind you that you and Queen Elizabeta have a little wager you need to finish."

The queen, who is still present, slaps Gilbert over his head again with a defiant swing. "He's right, you idiot. And when I beat you, I can't wait to see the sword you'll give me."

The once furious king's temperament loosens as his childhood playmate revives their rivalry, and all manner of cruel hostility dissolves. The prince wonders if this is because he is as big a fool as Elizabeta claims he is or just because he is quick to forget.

"Ha! So you think!" he laughs. "See who's laughing once I get your best horses!"

"Come, little brother," the prince suddenly hears his brother whisper. "Let us make haste and leave them. We have work to do."

"Y-Yes, brother," the prince shyly responds and quickly takes his pet's hand and drags him off. As they retreat into their castle, the prince looks back and sees that the queen and king are still bickering like two children without any responsibilities, completely forgetting about the entire incident.

* * *

"You disappoint me."

The prince flinches at his brother's cold words. He knows making an excuse will not solve anything, so he holds his tongue. What is done is done.

In all his life, the prince's brother never struck him, not even raised his hand at him. He uses a different method of getting under the prince's nerves through the sheer relentlessness of his will. Where the prince errors, his brother corrects him through self-loathing and suffering through his own guilt. The prince's brother expresses disappointment because he knows he wants his best to please him and make him proud; however, he has failed to do those things, and that, alone, is the greatest punishment of all.

Even so, the prince shamefully apologizes.

"I'm sorry, brother," he speaks in a glum voice. "It will never happen again. I promise."

"You wouldn't need to promise me anything if you knew what you were doing, now, would you?"

His words bore into the prince's fragile heart and sting his eyes. Biting hard on his lower lip, he fights back hot tears; however, try as he does, he cannot help himself as his pale complexion flushes red and his nose stuffs up and runs.

"Ah, Emil…" The prince's brother speaks his name in soft words and embraces him with a gentle caress. "Don't cry, little brother. You are an adult now. Be strong. Here, let me see your face." He lifts his brother's chin up to see his lavender eyes and kisses his forehead. "My dear little brother…what am I going to do with you? I still need to give you a punishment. Even if you were not at fault, anyone should know that it is a great crime to raise your hand at a king or queen."

"Yes," the prince agrees; his voice is muffled in his brother's shoulder as he buries his face deep within the silken fabric of his dark blue cape.

"Mm, I think I have something to cover your seventy strikes." The color once again drains from the prince's cheeks at the thought of having to be beaten. "The last of our guests will be departing this evening. There will be one more feast at dinnertime in the great hall; after that, I suspect there will be many dishes. Your job, after everyone finishes eating and leaves, will be to collect every last plate, fork, and goblet—every dish on the tables—and bring them to the kitchen where you will wash them— _all of them_. I want them sparkling clean, and you are forbidden to go to bed until you complete your task. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, brother," the prince replies, not even bothering to hide his unenthusiastic tone. "And…what about Leon?"

"Ah, of course. Your pet." The prince's brother does not smile, but with trained ears, he can hear a maliciously twisted tone of amusement dancing on his tongue. "I've already prepared his punishment. It will suit him, and I think it is as close as one can get with death."

Uneasy, the prince swallows. "You aren't going to hurt him, are you?" He makes a small whimpering noise as his brother cups his cheeks and slyly smiles.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he coos. "After all, he is your pet. I don't think you would like it if he was beaten and bruised, would you?"

The prince rapidly shakes his head.

"As I thought. But do not worry. You will both carry out your punishments at the same time, so until then, I will leave you to yourselves for the rest of the day. Ah, and if the Dotribans and Thursaunians are still here, try to stay clear of them. I recommend going to one of the less occupied places in the castle if you can."

"We will, brother. Thank you."

"Off you go, then," his brother says and gets up to leave. The prince suspects he is going to his husband to clear up any misunderstandings that might have happened during his absence. With that, the prince returns to his pet whom he left idling outside the hallway.

The boy is leaning his back against the walls when the prince finds him. He takes his hand and leads him back to his chambers where none of the kings will venture. He does not mention anything about his previous actions or the punishment he will be receiving; there really is no point since the boy's Crodinian is extremely limited. Even if he can communicate with his pet, he does not know what sort of punishment his brother has in store. Perhaps, he thinks, it is best not to know until it happens.

Until dinnertime, the prince decides to spend the rest of the day teaching his pet how to speak some basic Crodinian. He hopes that once his pet can understand the basics, he will teach him how to recognize the royal figureheads to avoid any further mishaps in the future.

When they reach the safety of his chambers, the prince gratefully closes the door and tells his pet to sit down. His pet obediently does so.

"Alright," he sighs and lets his mind process. "We need to teach you some Crodinian. It would be easier if I had an interpreter. Even a book would be nice. Um, let's start with the simple things. Like this…" He begins by waving his hand out to the boy and says, "Hello." To add to the Altorienese custom of greeting another person, he also bows. He continues to do this until his pet finally repeats the simple greeting.

"Hello," he says.

"Very good. That's a start, I suppose," the prince compliments him and continues to move on to other greetings and commands. They practice together until Leon can understand how to greet people, how to address himself, and how to respond to motion commands. The lesson takes up the remainder of the morning before the prince hopelessly gets stuck at forming sentences. Within the neighboring kingdoms are varying languages and grammar structures. The prince does not even know if Altorienese has a similar structure to Crodinian, and if it is does not, he will have a difficult time trying to get Leon to form sentences. Without any means of communicating any further, the prince finally decides to take his pet to the library to look for some books. Hopefully, there will be something there on Altorienese that does not purely involve foreign characters. Something with both Altorienese and Crodinian will be even better.

At the library, the prince requests any books that their castle might have on Altorienese. The librarian searches for any records and comes back with only a small book, barely thicker than the prince's index finger. Nevertheless, it is better than nothing, and the prince finds a spot to sit alongside his pet.

As he opens the book, he is delighted to see that there are conveniently both Altorienese and Crodinian words. The only thing that slightly disappoints him is the actual contents of the book: it is a children's book filled with Crodinian myths and fairytales. There is only so much children's bedtime stories can contain that can apply to real life, but nevertheless, the prince goes with the fact that they at least have a convenient book to utilize.

The first thing the prince does when he opens to the first page is point to the beginning passage and inquires if his pet can read the Altorienese characters printed. His biggest concern is whether or not the boy can read, but to his content, he starts to read aloud in clear Altorienese. He stops Leon shortly afterwards and points to the beginning again. This time, he starts to read aloud in Crodinian until he finishes the first sentence. He repeats the first sentence two more times and points to the first word again. He silently waits for the boy to repeat his words, and in time, shaky and broken Crodinian spills from his mouth.

"Very good," the prince smiles and points to the first word again. He decides his pet should master one sentence perfectly before moving on to the next one. Together, the two continue their reading session until the sunlight disappears from the library, and the great halls spring to life with the sounds of music and laughter.

* * *

Piles of unfinished food lies thrown and cast all over the tables as the prince picks up each plate and sorts them in different piles. He drags a sack around the great hall to fill with the uneaten and wasted food alike; he pulls a cart in which to stack the plates, utensils, and goblets in. The work is tiresome and boring, but the prince does not complain. Should he feel the urge to let loose his discomfort, there is no one to listen to him. Leon has since gone with his brother to carry out his own punishment. The prince asked about what his pet will be doing, but his brother remained quiet about it.

With the halls being void of servants and dinners, the prince feels alone in this grand space. He wishes his pet were here if just to keep him company as he toils through the night. Thinking about the boy, he starts to wonder how their lessons will continue. He will have to come up of ways to quiz him to make sure he understands the words he is reciting. The lessons are similar to how his brother personally taught him how to speak Tabrinian, one step at a time; however, Tabrinish and Crodinian have stronger similarities to one another than Altorienese—at the very least, both Tabrinish and Crodinian use the same alphabet.

But, alas, the prince tells himself he is being picky. He should be glad he has an opportunity to teach someone Crodinian. Altorienese will be the most difficult to transition from, he understands, but at the very least, he will one day be able to tell everyone of his accomplishments.

The prince's punishment drags on through the rest of the night when silence has indefinitely fallen over the castle grounds. All the servants have gone to sleep, and with only one set of hands performing the cleanup work, progress is incredibly slow. His brother visits on two occasions: once before taking a bath and again before he is ready to go to bed. Before retiring for the night, the prince asks his brother how his pet's punishment is coming along.

"His punishment is going along steadily," he answers with a soft smile. In the darkness, the prince cannot make out his true underlying expression, but as he recalls from before, it is not a pleasant smile. In such a way, the prince supposes, he reveres his brother as much as he does fear him. "I've checked his progress already, little brother. It appears he will not finish until well after you do."

"What is he doing?" the prince dares to ask. He dreads the answer he will receive, yet curiosity eats through to his tongue and speaks on his voice.

"You will find out tomorrow. I suspect he will be able to tell you or show you in some form or another." He sets down a candle and makes his way to his chambers. "It is late. Try to hurry up, so you can get some sleep, little brother. I will send a guard to check on your progress every half hour. Good night."

"Good night, brother," he says and continues scrubbing the plates. The kitchen is still dark, but the light his brother leaves him gives him the strength and the sight to steadily work until dawn breaks over the mountains and touches the castle.

When his punishment is finally completed, the prince's hands are sore and wrinkled from the great amounts of soapy water he used to clean the dishes. He checks his work twice to make sure he did not miss any spots on the plates and goes to the great hall to see if there are any stray food scraps. Everything is absolutely spotless. The prince is amazed at how long and hard it is for servants to clean the great hall. Even with multiple people working together, the task is not easy. He is grateful to be a prince tonight—or rather, this morning. Sunlight cracks through the windows above and pours into the walls. With the passing hours, the sunlight will draw down from the windows and sweep to the other side. His eyelids pulling down over his eyes, the prince hurries to find his pet. His entire body reeks of old soap and food scraps, and his hands and back ache from kneeling and dragging all of the food scraps to the dumping grounds. He wants nothing more than to take a nice hot bath and cuddle up in his soft bed. First, he needs to find out where his brother took his pet to carry his punishment out.

With the day being young, there are seldom any guards situated at their posts. It takes the prince some time to find one, and when he does, the guard is nearly half asleep and mumbling something about Lukas carry that "Alt'rienese lad" around the dungeon.

Fear overtakes the prince when he initially believes his pet really was sentenced to death like the rest of the Altorienese boys, but collecting his nerves, he instead thanks the guard and scurries off towards the dungeon to check on his progress. He arrives in front of the cold dungeon moments later. A cold, deathly wind drifts from under the gated doors to his ankles and chills him through and through. He was here not two days ago, and the memories of the layout are still etched in his mind. If Leon is where he suspects he will be, then he should not be too far away from where the prince first met him. And so, seizing the rest of his courage and alert mind, the prince asks two of the posted guards to escort him down the steps.

With morning nearing, the dungeon is as quiet as the outside kingdom. The prince hears no painful moans and howling as before, though his nerves are anything but settled. The walk is quicker this time, partially because the prince knows where he is going and because the familiarity does not hold him back from progressing. Eventually, the prince makes his way to an intersection. He is about to turn left when his boot sticks to something and nearly causes him to trip. The guards cry out in surprise, but the prince assures them he is fine. Still, he is curious as to what he treaded on. He does not recall that material being there before and asks for the guard behind him to bring his torch to the ground. With some reluctance, the guard obeys and kneels down with the light. What the prince sees sends his heart reeling into his throat.

Strewn over the ground like rusted paint is a long trail of drying blood that takes off from the left to the front, most likely towards the dungeon's outdoor entrance. With the entire space being so cold, there is hardly any smell, and the prince's body is so covered with the stench of food scraps that he did not notice the iron-tinged smell before.

The prince suddenly feels faint. He wants to leave this place, to run straight back up the stairs and lock the door tightly behind him. He wants to take a nice bath and idly drill his pet on some Crodinian words before heading off to bed. But Leon is not here, and the prince cannot go back until he finds him. Wherever he is, something strongly tells him that Leon's punishment has something to do with his fallen companions. The prince presses on in spite of his nerves, and tells himself that so long as he has a purpose, everything will be fine.

In time, the prince follows the trail of blood back to the source: the same dark dungeon cell that once held a dozen or more Altorienese boys cowering in their own urine and feces. The man who transported the boys is no longer there, possibly already dead and joining the others in whatever afterlife the Altorienese believe in. No one is needed to open the heavy wooden door this time around; the door is swung wide open and leading into a chamber of death. Cautiously, the prince pokes his head inside and tightly holds his breath. He sees nothing in the darkness, but he knows enough that the cell is completely empty.

"It's empty," he says out loud to confirm the fact for himself. He hopes knowing will help clear his sanity as he decides to follow the trail of blood in the other direction.

"Prince Emil, the sun is almost up," one of the guards says as the prince goes the other way. "Are you sure you want to linger here any longer?"

"I am sure," the prince responds and moves forward. His head is spinning, and his entire body feels like a collection of sticks supporting an iron ball. "I am here to retrieve my pet. It would sadden me if I abandoned him here."

The guards accompany the prince in silence for the rest of the way until the blood starts to disappear. There is no need to follow a trail anymore, however, as there is a door sitting at the top of a flight of stairs. The prince goes up these stairs and opens the door. Once he does so, a large gush of cold, fresh air blows past him and howls into the dungeon below. The guards behind him tremble a little, and the prince tells them to follow him further. He knows this place now. They are outside at the other end of the castle that stretches out into an empty landscape. Here, the vast openness of the lands makes it close to impossible for any escaping convicts to avoid being struck or hunted down. It is also here that far ahead into the distance, the prince sees someone's silhouette moving back and forth.

"There!" he points and heads off, his pace faster than before when he recognizes the owner's build. "Leon!" he calls out into the open. "Leon, it's me, Emil!"

The silhouette stops moving, and when the prince reaches the figure, he begins to recognize his pet's familiar sweeping dark hair and his broad shoulders. Finally, when he reaches him, he can see into his golden eyes and the blood caked all over his once wonderful clothes.

"O-Oh…" the prince catches himself. He looks at the state of his pet: worn, tired, and hungry. His hands are caked with blisters as he is holding a small shovel, its handle also rubbed and stained with a dried red coating. There is a pile of dirt next to him, and behind him lies what appears to be a large pit that is filled halfway with dirt. The prince swallows when he realizes what it is, and he is grateful that he did not have to see the contents buried within.

"Are you almost finished here?" he wearily asks his pet.

The boy silently nods, as he is too exhausted to say anything, or perhaps he does not understand his master and answers with whatever he believes to be appropriate. His work is almost done, as there is a small pile of dirt left to cover the pit. The prince is honestly surprised anyone managed to dig such a deep pit in the middle of Crodinian soil. The earth here is notoriously known for being so cold that it is impossible to plow and grow anything but the hardiest of crops. On top of having to bury his traveling companions, this punishment truly is analogous to death if not worse.

"Leon…" The prince's voice is worn and exhausted but sincere and forgiving. "Hurry up, so we can go back home. We'll take a bath and get some rest after this."

He is not sure if the boy understands him. His golden eyes that normally give off a warm glow are frozen over in an icy glaze. His face and hands are rendered numb from the cold and death of the other Altorienese. His movements are slow and rigid. Yet, in spite of everything, against the rising sun and nearby birds bursting into song, Leon nods to his master and works faster than before.


	3. His Word

High gasping and strangling chokes startle the prince awake midmorning. A single name comes to his mind when he hears the familiarity of the voice.

"Leon." The prince rises from his covers and drops to his pet's bedside. He touches a cold hand against the boy's forehead and finds it beading with cold sweat. "Oh, Leon…"

The boy whimpers in his sleep. Like a frightened dog, he kicks at his covers, tosses and turns, and curls his body in towards his gut like an unborn child. The sounds he makes are anything but comforting; from his lips pour moaning and suffocating fits, the sources lost to the prince's imagination as something unspeakably awful. The prince's heart goes out to his pet. He remembers the feeling of isolation and seclusion; only, where he at least has his brother, the prince's pet has no one else. He is the sole person in the world he has now.

"It's alright, Leon," he coos in a soft voice. "Everything's fine." He places a hand onto his pet's shoulder and rubs it the way his brother did many years ago. His pet's episode does not pass over immediately. He shivers and jolts in his sleep long after the prince strokes him and reassures him in whispers.

"Leon, nothing bad is going to happen to you. I promise," he tells him. The boy finally falls back into a still slumber in time, and the prince moves his fingers to his cheek. With his pet's figure frozen in the rising sun's light, he can see the warm glowing complexion on the boy's face. He likes the color of the Altorienese boy's skin, a milky almond that reminds him of the rich nuts brought from Dotriba's ports. He loves how his pet has full lips that part in a small gap like two petals, and he wonders how they must feel on his hand. His thoughts wander to his brother and the king. Though it is royal policy for subjects to kiss the king's hand, the prince's brother has the privilege of being kissed by the king, himself. It is as justified as being kissed by the lips of the gods, themselves. He will not admit it aloud, but the prince wishes for this kind of comfort and privilege. He has desired intimacy of his own, too, and he wonders if his pet will give that to him.

Leaning quietly over his pet until he can smell his flowery scent, the prince brushes the boy's hair from his forehead and kisses the smooth skin beneath. The taste of sweet soaps and oils lingers even as he moves away and traces his tongue on the groove of his lips. Several times in his life, his brother kissed him to sleep and eased his loneliness. At that time, he and his brother were the only ones in their world. With the king taking him away, the prince cannot help but feel a need to fill that void, and his pet is the perfect crutch.

"I'm here, Leon." The prince's voice is faint on his ears, yet he still remains by the boy's side until he, too, feels peace come over him. His eyelids droop and his head hangs until he no longer has the strength to stay awake.

* * *

It is already well into the afternoon when the prince wakes to the sound of his pet stretching his legs and groaning. His eyes peer open, and he finds himself on the floor next to his pet who is just waking up alongside him. Careful not to disturb him, he rises first and stretches his back out. After going through just a few hours of sleeping on the ground, he cannot understand how peasants or even his pet can handle such conditions; his pet even has cushions and sheets for bedding and yet his back still aches, although he believes laboring with the dishes contributed to his pains.

"Leon," he calls to his pet and rocks him back and forth. "Leon, you need to wake up. We've overslept. Everyone will wonder what happened to us."

He stops as his pet makes a tired sound and shuts his eyes against the bright light. Again, the prince persists and rocks him even harder than before. This scene feels somewhat nostalgic as he thinks back to the time his king used to do this to him and his brother as children.

"Wakey wakey! Rise and shine!" he would say to his future husband. Those mornings would always end in a torn pillow and an enlarged bruise on the prospective king's forehead. But the prince is no king, and he certainly is not the cheery and spirited Mathias; he is thoughtful and considerate, so he waits for his pet to finish stretching before trying to wake him again; however, he does not need to, because shortly after stretching his arms, the Altorienese boy throws his eyes open and stares straight at the prince.

"Good morning, Leon," the prince attempts to greet him. He watches his pet with an innate fascination at just how bright his golden eyes look in the sunlight and hovers over him like a curious child.

The boy blinks and rubs his eyes at his master before uttering a shaky, "Good mor'ing."

"Good morning," Leon," he corrects his pronunciation. "It's 'Good morning.' You can say it, can't you? Good morning."

His pet tries again, and to the prince's delight, his pronunciation is far better than the first time. "Good morning."

"Very good," he softly smiles and pats his pet's head for positive reinforcement yet again. "Now come. We need to dress so we may eat. We've slept far too long, I'm afraid." As he rises, he helps his pet to his feet and picks out a select choice of attire for his pet. Today, he chooses a dark brown blouse with black leggings for his pet, and for him, an ordinary gray tunic with matching leggings and a pair of black boots. He checks himself in the looking glass before focusing his attention on his pet who, at this point, has no trouble figuring out how to dress into Crodinian clothing. When his pet is completely dressed, the prince takes his hand and instructs him to follow him to the kitchen for something quick to eat.

"I've already checked the time, and its past lunchtime," he tells the boy despite knowing he cannot understand all of his Crodinian. "We really slept for a long time, but you know what? I think we deserved the rest—you most of all, Leon." Halfway through the hall, he suddenly stops and gives out a little gasp when his pet lightly bumps into him from behind.

"Oh! Sorry, Leon. I didn't mean to stop like that without warning." He looks around the hall and then, finding it empty, moves to his pet and squeezes his hand. "Leon…are you well today?"

Though his Crodinian is still considerably limited, the Altorienese boy understands enough to grasp the concept of his question. It takes a moment for him to register the words and translate the meaning, and when he does, he replies only with a simple nod, as if speaking out will cause disturbance.

"Truly you are?" the prince asks; his hand still clutches onto his pet like a precious toy he refuses to let go. He cannot feel safe until he knows everything is well with his pet. He remembers the events after his pet finished his tasks. Exhausted and soaked with the vilest stenches imaginable, the prince ordered his guards to assist the boy to the bathhouse and dismissed them so that they could bathe in peace. Thrice he had to scrub his pet free of the blood and dirt smudges and whatever unholy entrails clung to his skin. A great amount of oils and soaps were used that night until the entire bathhouse smelled sickly sweet of flowers and precious spices. When they finally finished, the bath waters had turned gray and oily from trying to clean the boy, and even after that, the prince had to soak him with fresh water to free him of the strong smells and soaps still clinging to his body. Both the prince and his pet went to sleep exhausted that morning; during that time, the prince could not help but feel a sense of unease and dread at what his brother's punishment might have done to Leon. As far as he knew, the aftermath started to show in the morning when the poor boy began to violently shake and tremble in the darkness. How can he be a prince to his people if he cannot be a decent master to his own pet, he wonders? His pet says nothing is wrong, but he thinks otherwise. There has to be more to the events of this morning and yet he wonders if he can even properly communicate with him.

For now, however, Leon nods again. His face bears no expressions, making it impossible for the prince to detect any lies. He wants his pet to tell him the truth, but more importantly, he wants to gain his trust. He cannot do so if he cannot understand or protect him, the way his brother has done so many times in his life.

"Leon, if something ever happens or if something goes wrong, please tell me about it." His hand still remains clinging to his pet when he looks straight into his eyes and nods without a word. The prince takes this as his understanding and leads him to the kitchen for a quick snack; with them waking up far later than the rest of the castle, the prince needs to catch up in his own personal studies before finding the time to spend with his new companion.

One step at a time, he thinks and moves swiftly through the hall, giving a short greeting to those he encounters and shying his pet away from peering eyes.

For a late breakfast, the prince requests some bread, cheeses, and meats to be wrapped in a cloth so that he may take it to the study halls for quick portability. Along the way, he feeds his pet the limited items, and while he notices how well he eats the meats and bread, the boy is more reluctant to stomach the cheeses; the prince is then to assume there is no such thing as cheese in the old Altorienese Empire and is more than happy to take them for himself.

The pair arrives at the castle's study hall shortly after finishing half of their snacks. The study hall is a separate section of the castle that was built by Mathias' great grandfather after believing knowledge also stands in the same power as brute strength. He believed a king should have both strength in wisdom as well as muscles in order to rule Crodinia, and so, construction started in his reign and finally finished in his son's later years. The result was a grand extension of the castle filled with elegant columns and rooms dedicated towards research and collective exploration of the unknown. Here, scholars, scribes, and researchers come together to share their curiosity of the world and how to better it. Only the finest and brightest of minds gain privilege to live within the castle's study halls, and as far as all the kings and the people have been concerned, they truly are the best their kingdom has to offer.

As soon as the prince and his pet set foot into the study hall's grounds, they can feel a different aura than the rest of the castle. It is the same with the dungeon, dining halls, and courtyard: each houses a different type of atmosphere, and if there was one mood the prince felt the study halls gave off, it was intimidation. He never thought himself to have a dense mind, but he knows he cannot compare to the minds that have gathered at the castle. It is only understandable; those who reside here are given a comfortable life included with housing, food, and traveling privileges to go to different kingdoms to study different aspects, policies, and terrain. For such privileges to be granted to them, of course, the crown expects nothing but the best.

"We have to be quiet here, Leon," the prince tells his pet as they make their way into his personal study room. There is a place reserved for royalty such as himself and the visiting kings when they require somewhere to study in private. The prince visits this place when he has to exercise his mind in politics and foreign policies, areas his brother has always deemed important for ruling. The pair moves quietly down the corridors of scholars chattering softly among themselves or gathering in collective circles. Behind some of the larger doors, they can hear scholars discussing larger topics or researchers sharing their newest discoveries and debates of varying and colliding opinions.

Far in the middle of the study halls, the prince leads his pet to his designated room and opens the door. Normally he finds it empty, but today, he is surprised to find a familiar face lost in his books.

"Brother," he breathes and quickly gestures for his pet to bow. After he sees him do so, he inquires of his reasons for being here. "Why are you here? I thought you would be with Mathias at this time."

His brother turns and stands with an intimidating grace flowing about him. In contrast to his fair complexion and wavy light-blonde hair, he dons a large cape with a shade of blue as dark as midnight. The words that whisper through the kingdom and to the other alliances speak with truth: Lukas is the darkness to Mathias' light. Even without his king and husband accompanying him, he holds a definite sense of authority that can send even the most headstrong of subjects quivering in their place.

"How nice to see you, little brother," he smiles and takes the prince's face into his hands. While his hands are pale and cold, the warmth and affection he expresses towards his brother shows with how gentle he handles the prince. He kisses his brother and rubs his shoulders as though knowing exactly where his brother's aches lie. "How is your body? Not too sore from last night, are you?"

"It will take a few days to recover, I think," the prince responds and allows his brother to touch him. It feels different with someone else watching over him as his brother smothers him with affection, but he must remember that Leon is nothing more than a pet; like with the way he bathes him, he would not get embarrassed if a dog were to watch him and his brother express affection.

"And your pet…" His brother takes his eyes away from him and looks straight at the Altorienese boy's face, whose eyes are lowered to the floor and his hair concealing his face. "How is he faring?"

The prince moistens his lower lip. "…We had some difficulties this morning." He then notices how his brother's eyes perk up and harden their gaze.

"Difficulties, you say? Is it anything I can take care of?" He speaks with a thin edge in his voice like a dagger sharpening its point on the edge of a sharpening stone. If given the opportunity, he will not hesitate to strike out at those who threaten his younger brother.

Sensing his brother's overprotective nature, the prince quickly tells him of the details. "He just had some trouble sleeping last night, Brother. But…with the way he had to carry out his punishment, I wouldn't be surprised if he had some kind of reaction afterwards."

"And your pet…" The king's husband looks down at him with unrelenting eyes. He scowls at how indirectly he views him, and while not an animal, he does not treat him with the same formalities as his subjects. "…he hasn't hurt you in any way, has he?"

"No, brother." The prince can be confident in his answer to that question.

Hearing this, the prince sighs and touches his brother's head. His voice softens, and his gaze dulls its dagger-like stare. "Very well, little brother. If anything is to happen to you, you know what to do."

"Tell you immediately." The prince has gone through this song and dance several times, even over the most trivial of things. "You still haven't answered my question, brother."

"Ah, you're correct. Forgive me. It was looking for your geography book on Tabrini."

"Tabrini?" the prince blinks.

"Yes. Seeing as how you keep some books in accessible range, I came here first."

"And did you find it?"

"Indeed, I did," the king's husband smiles, waving his hand to the open book behind him. Open in a double-paged display is a large map of Tabrini's center-most province where the capital lies. The prince does not bother asking his brother of his research reasons, as most turn out to be unrelated to his life or simply uninteresting. Thus, he leaves his brother to indulge in his Tabrinish map while he searches for his books on politics. However, before resuming his studies, his brother converses with him one last time before heading out.

The king's husband closes his book and leaves it unattended when he stops to look back at the Altorienese boy with an air of suspicion. Sensing something is not right, the prince looks up from his book towards his brother. "Is there something else you need, brother?"

"Not exactly." He stares upon the boy with a stern face and thin lips. Then, without any warning, he moves in on the boy and brings himself so close to his face that their noses can practically touch.

Not knowing how to react to his brother's actions, the prince can only stare in bewilderment as he looks on the unsettling image. The entire time, he notices how his pet conceals his eyes and hides behind his untrimmed bangs, never looking directly at the king's husband. It is not until his brother does not move away that he thinks to finally speak out to him.

"Brother, you're making him nervous," he tells him from his desk.

"Apologies, little brother," he spaciously says as if not entirely meaning it. "I just thought your pet smells and looks rather nice today."

The prince blushes a light pink as he takes this as a form of praise from his brother. It is not often when his brother directly praises him, so he takes it upon himself to find ways of accepting it in his own style. "That is…I bathed him three times to wash away the smell from his—his punishment."

"Hmm." The prince's brother licks his lips and moves away from the boy. "You did a good job, little brother. I don't smell any Altorienese scum on him." The prince winces at the way he refers to his pet's kind. Even though they have lost the war, he does not understand why others must treat them with such lowly regard. If anything, Leon has not done any wrong; he is just inexperienced and lacks the knowledge necessary to adapt to Crodinian customs. The prince will have to train his pet hard if he is to impress the royals one day.

"Thank you, brother," he says for now and lightly bows his head to him when he takes his leave. When his brother shuts the door behind him, he cannot help but feel as though a storm has just passed. He lets out a heavy sigh and signals for his pet to come to him. The boy obediently does so and moves to his side, just close enough for him to stroke his smooth dark brown hair.

"I'm sorry for that, Leon." He pauses when his pet looks up at him with his large golden eyes now revealed only for him.

"Sorry?" he repeats like a curious bird.

The prince smiles and pats his pet's head. "It means to feel strongly about someone else's misfortunes, sometimes to even feel guilt." He chuckles and brings his forehead to rest atop his pet's head. "I'm acting ahead of myself right now, Leon. You don't know what those words mean, but I'll teach you right after I finish studying. Does that sound nice?"

"Yes," his pet verbally consents and nods.

"Very good," he smiles and pats his pet's head once again. "Oh, and Leon, try not to look away when someone's speaking to you."

Having been taught those basic words, the Altorienese boy is able to grasp just enough to make out his order. "Why?" This is the first time he has voluntarily asked a question outside of their studying environment. The prince stares, fascinated at his pet's intelligence and looks upon him with a keen sense of pride, believing he has taught his pet well.

"Why? Well, because people will think you're being suspicious. They won't be able to trust you. I want you to be able to trust me, Leon."

"Trust?" he repeats.

The prince nods. "To trust someone means being able to put pieces of your life into someone else's hands and letting him take charge. Sometimes it can be your entire life that you trust someone with. For example, I trust my brother. I hope that one day, you will be able to trust me."

Though he does not know how well his pet's Crodinian has been coming along, something amazing happens. The prince's pet takes the words and their contexts, pieces them together, and forms a sentence with simple words—simple but powerful, and the prince does not think he will forget them anytime soon.

"I hope so, too."

The prince smiles.

* * *

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness."

"It a pleasure to meet, Highness."

The prince shakes his head and retries with a few words at a time. "It is…"

"It is," his pet repeats.

"…a pleasure…"

"A pleasure."

"…to meet you…"

"T'meet you."

"No. To meet you."

"To meet you."

"Yes. And then, we say, 'Your Highness.'"

"Your Highness?"

"Very good, Leon. Now put it all together. It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness."

The boy struggles on his lips as he attempts to form the words without an accent. Try as he does, there is still a noticeable hint of Altorienese in his Crodinian as he smoothly recites the greeting.

"It is nice to meet you, Your Highness."

"Yes, that's it, Leon," the prince beams. "Very good."

"Thank you," his pet has been taught to say, and he says just that.

"You're welcome, Leon," is the prince's proper response. He makes sure he uses the correct responses to ensure he stays a positive influence for his pet, just like his brother did for him growing up his entire life. "Right, now do you remember who my brother is?"

His Altorienese pet's lips twitch and begin forming Crodinian words until they form a title. "Lukas Bondevik, second-in-command to the Kingdom of Crodinia. The Shadow." The prince then asks of his brother's husband to which his pet responds, "Mathias Køhler, king of the Kingdom of Crodinia. The Sun King." While there are several other titles to go by, the prince decided to only teach him of these two titles as a starter. Very rarely are their other titles used, and when they are, he has noticed how bored his brother and his king become of them.

"That's right, Leon. You're learning very fast. And what about me?"

To this, his pet says, "Emil Steilsson, prince of Crodinia or…Master?"

"Master is more suitable," the prince says, though he has not gotten used to it. Since he is officially Leon's master more so than his prince, he feels it only formal to have his pet address him as such. They are not entirely master and servant but form an odd relationship between companion and property. Still, the prince believes this is the best approach if he wants to draw a line between royalty and an Altorienese prisoner of way.

"Master, then," his pet settles on.

"Yes, Leon. You are to address me as 'Master.' Only royalty has the privilege of addressing me informally unless I say so, understood?"

"Understood," he says, trying to adapt to more verbal responses than mere gestures. With their lessons in greetings and courtesy coming along, the prince decides to stop here. He looks at the nearest clock and reads the time to be progressing into the evening. The royal hearings should have passed by now, and the dining halls are expected to be filled with newly washed dishes and plates upon plates of food. Today, they have made good progress, and the prince is confident enough with his pet that he uses few gestures and more words.

"Let's pick up these books and give them to the librarian," he tells his pet, and his pet begins to pick up the books.

"What do you feel like eating today?" he asks, and his pet replies with a list of odd foods listed in names that can only be pronounced in Altorienese. The prince warns him not to speak Altorienese in these halls, as some residents are still shaky with the aftermath of the war, and even the slightest hint of Altorienese presence might set them off. His pet soon apologizes and promises not to use Altorienese in public.

Music and festive voices fill the air as the prince and his pet approach the dining halls. Even after the visiting royals have left, there is still much merrymaking to be had in the land of Crodinia. In the center of it all is the kingdom's beloved ruler, Mathias Køhler, himself. His charisma and smile are infectious, spreading to even the most solemn of characters and sending them into a tipsy faze of drinking and joke-telling. The prince looks around and sees that his brother is nowhere to be found. For now, he takes a seat at his designated spot far from the rest of the chaos. His pet sits behind him on a stool and waits to be fed.

Since it has barely been two days since the prince has claimed ownership for his pet, he is unsure of what he enjoys eating. He grabs a sample of everything from the tables, stacks them on a large metal platter, and presents it to his pet in hopes that one of the foods will entice him.

"Just tell me which one tastes the best, and I'll bring you more of it," he says and returns to his seat. The prince, himself, does not eat very much and instead watches over the scene as the king laughs his worries away in the middle of his subjects.

"He's doing that again."

The prince almost jumps out of his skin at the sudden arrival of that voice. As soon as he turns his head, he sees his brother sitting next to him with a small plate of food in front of him. He is already snacking on a piece of grilled fish as if treating this entire scene as a normal everyday occurrence, but it might as be with Mathias being his husband.

"Brother, I-I didn't see you," the prince stammers and straightens his posture out.

"I was in the kitchen," he casually says. "It's too noisy here. Mathias makes too many friends sometimes."

The prince scoffs and looks at his brother with a raised eyebrow. "Where would the Kingdom of Crodinia be without him?"

"Trying to fend off Altorienese troops, no doubt," the king's husband wearily sighs and takes another piece of fish. He bites off the head and chews on its cloudy eyeballs until the entire piece is disfigured and unrecognizable flesh. "I just wish the idiot were more serious every now and then."

The prince cannot argue with him there. A majority of his life revolves around living in the castle with Mathias and his brother. He has still not adjusted to all of the king's erratic behaviors no matter how many days pass them by, whether it is his never-ending urge to travel and hunt or making up quirky jokes and laughing around new faces. At the very least, his brother will never tire of his excitable behavior however dull and bored he appears to be; the prince only wishes he can find someone of that caliber in his later years, too.

Mathias and the rest of his subjects chatter in the center of the dining hall until their plates are emptied and their bellies are full. The prince's pet has since cleared three plates of a select assortment of sausages and meats, and his brother has since sipped an entire bottle of wine. With his nerves loosened, the prince finds it easier to approach him with more dutiful matters than if he lacked alcohol in his system.

"So, brother, when will it be my time to attend the hearings?" he asks over a goblet of spicy cider.

Being loose in spirits and judgment, his brother presses onto his hair and ruffles it the way his husband does to the young prince. Then, he chuckles and kisses his little brother's cheek, leaving a faint waft of wine in his wake. "Little brother, you're supposed to attend them every day since turning of age. It's time for you to be an adult, and hearings are part of becoming one." He pauses to contain a spell of nausea passing through his system before continuing. "I'll give you a pass today since I know you were tired from last night. It's just understandable, little brother. I would find an excuse to skip if I were in your position. No harm done, right?"

"R-Right…" the prince reluctantly says. With how his brother can occasionally be aloof when drinking, he does not always know how truthful he is being. Just then, his doubts are washed away when his brother stands up and begins making his way down to the middle of the dining hall, carrying an empty wine bottle in his hand and dragging it down the steps like a sledgehammer. The prince watches with keen eyes and calls his pet over to see. Trying not to show too much interest, he points to his brother who is almost invisible in the crowd with how ordinary and quiet he is being.

"Look, Leon," he loudly whispers so his pet can hear him over the yelling and singing. "My brother's going to do something to Mathias. This always happens when he ignores him for too long."

His pet watches the scene unfold in complete focus as Lukas approaches Mathias, taps him on his back, get his attention—and smashes him over his stubborn head with the empty wine bottle. The hall explodes with laughter and applause as their king stumbles, regains his balance for a brief moment, and falls flat on the floor, the glass bottle shattered all around him and inflicting a protruding red gash on the side of his head. Some of the more sober diners show some concern for the king and his condition, but they soon pass over when they see how casually the rest of the diners react to this unusual event.

Lukas, too, is completely calm about striking the king over his head and bends down to pick him up. He easily does this with a single arm and shakes his husband like a limp rag before snapping his fingers at him.

"Mathias," he hisses into his ear. "King of the north. Get to your feet and wrap this feast up. This is getting ridiculous, and I'm tired."

"There's the couple we know and love!" someone shouts with a hearty laugh. "Always keeping each other in check! Ha ha ha!"

"Just like children," the prince sighs as his brother begins ordering the diners to leave the halls for the night. They have a busy day tomorrow, and with reports from the other kingdoms arriving in the morning, they need their full rest to last the entire day. The prince, too, decides it is time for them to retire and asks if his pet is finished eating.

"One more roll?" his pet asks, pointing to a single jellyroll filled with starberry jam and whipped cream.

"One more." The prince hands his pet the jellyroll and tells him to eat it as they retreat to his chambers. When they return to his chambers, there a fresh change of sleepwear is laid out on his bed for the two of them and a small mattress installed by the prince's bed just for his pet. "Here, join me, Leon." He takes a seat on his pet's new mattress and feels the cloth beneath. It is not as tall or as grand as his own bed, but it is softer and more comfortable than what his pet had before. Sure enough, his pet takes a seat beside him and feels the cushiony texture of his new sleeping area. "This is your bed from now on. I asked the head steward to arrange a better place for you to sleep. The floor, even for a pet, is no place for you."

He watches as the boy feels the coolness of the sheets and the spongy support of compressed springs and a sturdy wooden frame. Like a child bouncing on his parent's bed for the first time, he does not know how to react to such a gift and can only stare in silence.

"Well?" The prince moves to his pet and places his hand over his. "Do you like it, Leon?"

His pet is silent, and for a while, the prince wonders if he made a wrong assumption until he sees those golden eyes glowing with something he can only describe as gratifying. He does not smile when he speaks, yet the warmth in his voice is enough to melt the prince's fragile heart.

"Very much, Master. Thank you."

The prince smiles and kisses his pet's forehead. He prepares for the night, dressing into his sleepwear and turning on his snowflake lamp. Before going to sleep, he asks his pet if he wants to read a story to practice his Crodinian. Without any protest, he consents and waits for his master to join him in his bed after retrieving a book.

"This book was given to me by my mother," he tells his pet as he strokes his dark hair. "It's full of tales from all over the world, not just in Crodinia but places like the island kingdoms of Tabrini or the desert seas of Arbren. They even have stories from Altorien. Would you like to hear those?"

"No." Leon speaks with such hostility over that single word that it frightens the prince. The sudden abruptness of his rejection came out of nowhere, and he does not know how to properly react to his reply. Maybe it is because his pet has never rejected something from him before, or maybe it was not natural for his pet to answer in such a way, but he suddenly feels uncomfortable being close to him.

"I-I…Might I ask why, Leon?" he attempts to say.

His pet bitterly looks away from him and turns his head away. He is hiding again, the prince thinks. It is just like the time at the study hall when he refused to look directly at his brother.

"Leon, look at me." He speaks with a firm voice that commands respect and authority. He is not just a prince; he is this boy's master. It feels unnatural speaking like this, but he can find no other way for his pet to listen to him. He needs to ingrain in his pet's mind that he is still his property if nothing else, not a friend, not even a human being.

"Tell me why you don't want to read about the Altorienese stories. That's an order. And look at me when your master is speaking to you."

With some waiting, his pet looks back in his direction with a meek expression. Though he is roughly the same height as the prince, his pitiful state makes him appear so much smaller than what he truly is.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, and this is the first time he does so.

Feeling guilty for using such a tone on a trivial matter, the prince easily forgives his pet and strokes his face. "It's fine, Leon. I shouldn't have ordered you like that. But I really do want to know why you don't want to hear about your own empire's stories." He can feel his pet hesitating even as he brings himself to speak.

"My empire was weak," he says in rough Crodinian. " _I_ was weak. It's a time I don't want to…" He struggles to find the correct word. "…know about."

"Forget?" the prince whispers. "Altorien is a place you'd rather forget?"

The boy is confused. "What is forget?"

"To forget," the prince explains, "is to discard your memories of something, as if you didn't know it happened or existed. Some things are easy to forget. Others…not so much." He strokes the binding on his book. The grooves along the spine that make up the floral pattern are still etched in good condition. He remembers feeling the spine as a child and enjoying how the flowers popped out of the binding like they were real. At that time, his mother was with him, too, smiling and holding him close to read him stories told from all around the world, a world that he still hopes he can one day see for himself.

For now, however, the prince dismisses these thoughts and instead chooses to pick a different story. He starts with the first one, a story from Tabrini about two beings from two different worlds. "Here, read as much as you can, and I'll help you along the way, Leon." He sits and reads alongside him with great patience, explaining any new definitions or words proving difficult to pronounce.

The story consists of a woman and a man from different planes of existence, a man from Tabrini and a woman from the Deep Earth, where the Tabrinish believe all life originates from. Having never seen a living human before, the woman grew curious of the world of the living and ventured out to gaze at its wonders. The first living creature she saw was a man, and, being surprised that he bore similar traits to her own kind, instantly fell in love with him. However, she knew she could not leave her world permanently and so easily, so she began to communicate with him through his dreams, hoping that one day her wishes would reach him, and they could spend a brief moment together.

When he slept, the man would hear the whispers of a beautiful voice, calling him to a place. He soon found that the voice was calling him to a cliff where no man dared venture. The rocks below were sharp, and one little mistake could send someone tumbling down into the rocks or the unrelenting sea below. But it was here that the woman's presence was the strongest, and it was here that the man was determined to meet the owner of the voice in his dreams and set out to find her. When he came to the edge of the cliff, the voice spoke to him from behind. Excited to finally meet the woman, he looked behind him to find not a beautiful woman to match her voice, but a mangled figure with the arms, legs, and face of a human but also woody flesh, hollow eyes, and hair that fell in tangled vines and dying leaves. Frightened by her undead appearance, the man tripped on his own two feet and tumbled head-first into the rocks below. He was killed instantly, and the remains of his body migrated to Far Skies, where the Tabrinish believe all life travels to when it passes on.

Unfortunately for the woman, she could never go to Far Skies to meet the one she had led to his death. Stricken with grief, she began to weep until her tears turned into a river that flowed down the cliffs and transformed into a waterfall. As for the woman, herself, she remained frozen in the same spot for such a long period of time that she had rooted herself to the land of the living and took on the physical form of a tree. The Tabrinish say that the tree still stands there today, and at the base of its roots, waters as clear as the purest alcohol but as salty as the most bitter tears runs down the cliff and into the sea.

When the prince and his pet finish the story, the prince looks to his pet and tilts his head. "Well? What did you think?"

His pet blinks his eyes a few times before speaking, a common ritual by now as he tries to process his thoughts into Crodinian. "I thought they were both…foolish is the word?"

The prince stares. "Why do you say that? Why do you think they were foolish, Leon?"

"Because…" His pet's voice trails off as he attempts to carry his thoughts out. "I think…the woman should not have told him to come to such a dangerous place. The man was foolish to follow a voice so blindly. And he should not have been so—I don't know the word—easy? Soft-headed, maybe?"

After some deduction, the prince believes the word his pet is looking for is "shallow."

"You think he's shallow because he only had an interest in her voice, Leon, and not her character?"

"Yes," his pet replies. "And it's better that two people of different worlds stay apart in their own worlds. That way…" He lets out a short sigh. "…those who come out of that bond will not be shunned by both worlds."

The prince does not understand the context of the boy's words. At first he thinks it is his limited vocabulary that prevents him from properly carrying out his thoughts, but something tells him there is more to his pet than what he is telling him right now. He nearly inquires about it when his pet begins to yawn.

"Ah. You're tired, aren't you?" His pet nods and rubs his eyes. "Then perhaps we can stop here. You did a good job reading, Leon. I'm proud of you for learning so much so quickly."

"Proud?" his pet repeats.

The prince smiles and closes his mother's book, taking care to tuck it carefully back in its place. "To feel proud is to be happy after accomplishing something. I am proud of you because you were able to grasp so much Crodinian in such a short amount of time. It's been, what? Two days of lessons? And yet you can understand what I'm saying."

"I try," his pet humbly bows. "Thank you, Master."

"You're welcome, Leon," he responds. "But before I get ahead of myself, your interpretation was incorrect. The story is one of persistence. There are different versions of this story, and some are told in full romances. The lesson to be learned from this version is that even when there are those from completely different backgrounds, their impacts may leave an everlasting impression with dedication and perseverance."

His pet, however, still appears confused. His thick brow furrows with confusion as he listens to his master, and it seems as though he is still in disagreement. It could be that he does not wish to go against his master or because he lacks the vocabulary to state his rebuttal, but he does not say anymore and decides to go to sleep.

"I'm tired, Master," he says.

"So am I, Leon," the prince smiles and preens his pet's bangs. "Since I'm sixteen years old, I have to attend the royal hearings tomorrow. It's going to be a long day for me, so let's both try to get some rest. Does that sound nice?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good." When the prince tucks his pet in his new covers, he goes to dim all the lights, capping the candles and lamps one by one. However, before he goes to dim his uncle's present, he hears a small sound coming from his bedside.

"A-Ah…"

The prince looks over his shoulder to see his pet sitting up from his covers and looking at the lamp with wide eyes.

"Something wrong, Leon?" the prince asks. He notices how reluctant the Altorienese boy is for leaving the chambers in complete darkness; he clings onto his blanket and begins to fidget with slight impatience—or perhaps it is fear.

"The light…" he says. "Don't take it away."

"This?" The prince places his hand on the lamp; even after having turned it on for an hour, its surface is decently cool due to his uncle's fine craftsmanship. "Would you like me to keep it burning for the night, Leon?"

"Yes," he immediately nods and adds on "please."

"Alright then." He leaves his uncle's lamp on and returns to his own bed. He settles in for the night and peeks over the edge to stare at his pet who is more than content with the lights being lit now. "Are you comfortable, Leon?"

"Yes, Master." His voice has since died down to a slur, and it only makes sense with the day drawing out with waiting and studying. Tomorrow might not be any different for both the prince and his pet, and it makes him ponder his role and the purpose of having him as a gift. His thoughts beginning to preoccupy his mind, he turns away from his pet and stares out his glass balcony to the vast valleys and river in the distance. The Kingdom of Crodinia is at a peaceful time, hard-earned and well-deserved because of Mathias' undying leadership and Lukas' cunning tactics. With things being the way they are, little will change: the prince will attend hearings, socialize with the royals and residents in the castle, converse with his brother and brother-in-law, and repeat. The only thing that has truly changed is Leon.

Rolling his head on his pillow, the prince stares at the ceiling at the lights. He has barely been sixteen for three days now, yet the lights floating and spinning in snowflake patterns gives off a nostalgic feeling that lulls him closer to sleep. Before his consciousness fades away, he turns back to Leon who already has his eyes closed. He calls to his pet in a soft whisper, wondering if the boy is already asleep.

"Leon…? Are you awake?"

His pet winks open an eye and moves his attention towards the bed beside him. Against the light of the lamp, his golden orbs look like two spheres of starlight peering through the darkness. "I'm awake, Master."

"Then can you tell me something? Are you happy here with me?"

"Happy?" his pet blinks.

"Yes. You know the word. I've taught you it."

"Happy…" his pet repeats. He closes his eyes and buries his face into his blankets, appearing as though he is meditating on the question. When he finally comes up with his answer, the prince's eyes have grown heavy and weak. He barely catches his pet smiling in the darkness before drifting off to sleep and hearing his final words.

"Yes, Master. I'm happy being here with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arbren: Anagram of "Barren"


	4. His Piece

Tiny crafted figurines move across the board with wooden movements, never betraying an expression or a revealing hint of tactics. They click and clack against the playing surface with feet tucked together and miniature props held close and tightly. Each piece has a unique feature to its face and design down to the very oil paints used by the finest crafter. The board, itself, is worn with grooves and dents from accidents and frustrated players quitting not even before finishing the game. Should one touch the surface, that person would find it smooth and sanded from polished players and pupils alike. Here, two new players conduct their first game together with open minds and greater patience: a prince and his pet.

"The king is the most important piece in the game. The game ends when he is conquered." During their game, the prince teaches his pet the rules while incorporating Crodinian policies to help guide his pet's developing language skills. "Every king in the world has a title to call his own. The king of Crodinia, as you know, is called the Sun King for his radiance and strength. In the Alliance of Dotriba, there are three rulers: Francis Bonnefoy, the Iris King, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, the Golden King, and Gilbert Beilschmidt, the Crimson King." He places a mercenary from the general's gambit and gestures for his opponent to play. "You met all three of them after the hunt following my birthday celebration. Over in the Unity of Thursaunia, there is Roderich Edelstein, the Teacup King; it runs as a joke because of how classy and yet fragile he is. We met him and his wife that day, too."

Before the prince can continue, his pupil asks a question in broken Crodinian after moving his general in front of his tower. "Do you have a title?" While a remarkably fast learner, Leon's accent is still noticeable, and the prince wonders if it always will be. Nevertheless, he makes do with what the Altorienese is capable of and works steadily alongside him.

"No, Leon. Princes don't have titles." He takes a pause. "But in his own sense, my brother has one for special cases, as you are aware of." Leon blinks and cocks his head like a curious bird waiting for a reply. The prince is more than happy to explain. "It's very unusual for there to be two kings ruling a single kingdom. You see, the kingdom of Crodinia is spilt into five provinces. I was born in the western province whereas my brother was born in the southern province. The capital, where we are right now, is located in the central province.

"It's always been that the oldest son in the central province takes the throne. Even though he is the official king, the other provinces have their own separate rulers who govern the lands in case of invasions or absences. My brother, Lukas, is the only son to the southern province. I am the only son of the western province."

He stops as he sees the look on his pet's face. It appears he does not understand why he and his brother have different rulers for fathers, so he takes the time to explain.

"My brother and I are born from the same mother, but we both have different fathers. Lukas' father passed away before I was born, and my mother remarried with the ruler of the western province." Seeing that Leon is satisfied with the explanation, he resumes his initial exposition. "When Lukas' father died, everyone assumed my brother would be the one to take over the southern province as the next ruler, but until then, he was too young and inexperienced. My mother sent us both to the central province where the king's heir, Mathias, was barely older than my brother. Everyone thought the two to be the ideal companions, and together, they could form a strong connection between the south and capital." The prince sighs and folds his hands. "I was only a child when we moved here—barely six. I missed my mother so much. I still do."

His Altorienese pet is silent. Being most likely an orphan, he does not have the luxury of thinking about his parents. At least the prince's parents are both still alive and well; even his brother lost his father. He should not be so greedy, he thinks, and quickly apologizes.

"Forgive me. I shouldn't have mentioned that. Returning to my brother, he and Mathias became close friends. You couldn't see it at first, but there was something between the two of them that even I didn't have with my brother." The prince swallows. "It turned out that that something was the love only two partners could share. When they both came of age, they married one another, and the southern province was assimilated under the central province's reign. Because of that, in my brother's own right, he is actually a king, too, but his title is different. He is simply called the Shadow."

"The Shadow," Leon repeats.

"Correct. He is the darkness to Mathias' light. While Mathias reigns in the sun's light and warmth, my brother gives orders from the hidden covers of his king and deals with deeper political affairs. The more power Mathias has, the more power my brother has, for you see, the stronger the light, the darker its shadow. That is the way Crodinia's ruling system works."

His pet blinks. "Do you have a role, Master?"

The prince still feels unused to the way his pet addresses him. Since they are on two different tiers, he felt it best to be addressed in that manner: pet and master, property and owner. Normally in the castle, he is addressed with formalities by the servants and doting words by his brother and his king. All subjects add on his title of "prince," and only royalty addresses him by his real name every now and then. To be called "Master" is new to him.

"I am supposed to take up rule back at the western province. Since the southern province is also overseen by my brother and my father is more fit to rule, everyone thought it was best for me to stay here in the capital so that I might gain more experience."

Leon tilts his head towards his master. "You miss your mother, but do you miss your home?"

The boy's Crodinian is developing smoothly. Even at his age, the prince was having trouble with Tabrinish despite the languages sharing the same grammar and characters. Already, Leon is able to understand basic phrases and grasp Crodinian characters and grammar at less than a week of lessons. He is truly amazing.

"Yes, Leon," he sadly smiles. "I miss the green hills and vast oceans. Though I was but a child, I still miss chasing the sheep and soaking in hot springs." He shakes his head. "But I'm being selfish. Given some organization, I can visit my home any time. You on the other hand…" He presses his lips together. "Do you miss your home, too, Leon?"

To his amazement, the boy bitterly shakes his head, a violent glow in those golden pools of his. The prince has only seen this kind of look on his pet's face once—the time he inquired about reading of his fallen empire's stories. It is a resentful look, an almost hateful one. It frightens him and yet it fascinates him. He cannot fathom where this source of negative energy came from; to pry into the Altorienese boy's past is his right, but he wonders if these are things that should be dwelled upon for any human being.

By restraining his biting curiosity, the prince refrains from inquiring any further into the boy's past and decides to return to their game. "Your move, Leon." He watches as his pet hovers his hand over his queen, thinking he might try to place an attack on his tower, but he, instead, makes an unanticipated move for his sage and places it straight in the attack line for his opposing mercenary.

The prince stares baffled at the Altorienese's decision. It is foolhardy for anyone to sacrifice a precious piece such as a sage and especially for nothing. Growing suspicious, the prince anticipates his opponent's next moves and tries to see if there is a trap waiting for him in the future. He stops and looks upon the chessboard. There are no traps to be laid. He understands this is only his pet's first game, but he thought his pet knew more than giving up his pieces so easily. With no better move to make, he places his mercenary into position and claims his sage.

"Leon, the sage is a powerful piece," he tells him with a stern voice. "You shouldn't give it up so easily. With the right strategy, it can almost be as powerful as the queen."

His pet says nothing, focusing his eyes on the chessboard the entire time. He then makes a simple move of placing a mercenary forward and gestures for his master to move next. The prince is about to see where he should act when a loud noise bursts into their private quarters.

"Emil! I thought I'd find you here!"

Completely startled at the abruptness of that loud voice, the prince kicks his leg out from underneath their playing table and sends the chessboard and its pieces flying all over the floor. He immediately goes into a panic, as both the chessboard and its accompanying pieces are invaluable antiques.

"A-Ah!" he gasps and hurls himself to the floor, examining each piece and making sure none of them have cracked more than they already have. "Mathias, you frightened me!"

"Did I?" The king's bright expression remains unchanged when he sees the calamity he has caused. "Don't worry about that, Emil. I can get an artisan to make you a new set."

"But this one…" the prince breathes with a tight chest and heavy heart. "…It belonged to Lukas' father."

The king has an unusual way of showing dismay. Instead of transforming his attitude into one of seriousness or solemnity, he tries to better the situation by using the optimistic approach; with the prince and his brother, however, it rarely works.

"I'm sure everything's fine, Emil," he chuckles and approaches the pair. He picks up a piece and turns it back and forth for any cracks or chips. "See? Nothing! It's just like it always was!"

"I-I suppose…" The prince looks at all of the dropped pieces and puts them back on the table. Meanwhile, his pet takes the chessboard, aligns it on the table, and begins placing down the pieces one by one. When they are finished, the king pats his brother-in-law on his back, nearly making him cough.

"Everything turned out for the best! No harm done!" As he stands there grinning, the prince feels an odd fire boiling inside him. It was Mathias' fault that he became startled and knocked the pieces to the ground. He was not even sorry about it, and why should he be? He is the king before he is Mathias to the prince. He is no longer the person the prince can tease or humor alongside. He cannot view him as an old friend or a fatherly figure anymore. Mathias is his brother-in-law and king of Crodinia. He cannot go against his speculations.

But what if something had been broken, the prince wonders? Then what? What would he tell his brother? That Mathias scared him into dropping the chess pieces? That would be bad for both accounts. It would be better to lie about it and say Leon did it.

"No, what am I thinking?" the prince silently mouths and squints his eyes as if it will blight out his thoughts. He gave Leon his word that he would not have anything happen to him on his account. His pet is his responsibility, not some scapegoat he can push around and order for his amusement. At least, he hopes he does not treat Leon in that regard.

Brushing his doubts aside, the prince stands to meet his king and speaks with him. "Thank you for helping me, Mathias. So why are you here?"

"Mm? Oh, I came here to see how you an' yer pet were doing." He looks at the Altorienese boy who has since set up all the pieces back on the chessboard. As with Lukas, he keeps his eyes hidden behind his bangs though he makes an attempt to look him in the eye. "So this is the one, right? And he's Altorienese?"

Worried for his pet's safety, the prince tries to stall any surfacing thoughts with questions. "So you just heard about my present?"

The king chuckles and scratches the back of his head where his hair is not as scruffy and unkempt. "I've been so caught up with other things that yer brother didn't get the time to tell me. Y'know, I thought it was weird that he'd give you some Altorienese guy, but this doesn't seem too bad. If yer happy with him, that's all that should matter, right?"

Even this surprises the prince. Normally, the king is insensitive or, at the very least, oblivious to any presumptions other than how awful the Altorienese are. The prince can hardly blame his brother-in-law, remembering the long nights he spent planning battle strategies with his then-fiancé and hearing the tragic news of good men and innocent people dying in the war.

"He did give me an Altorienese pet for a reason," the prince brings up. "It had to do with being able to 'tame' him." He knows very well that the Altorienese are considered property and slaves in the rest of the kingdoms, yet referring to his time spent as "taming" Leon disturbs him. A slave does not need taming, it needs breaking. A pet should only have to be tamed if it is anything but human. Where, then, does this boy fall under, he thinks?

"Emil, I've gotta say, it wasn't easy 'taming' yer brother," the king jokes, or at least, that is what the prince thinks he is doing. Royal birthright aside, Mathias has always treated Lukas as a good friend and spouse if anything. The prince cannot imagine the king ever trying to break his brother the way he is trying to teach his pet.

Since the prince does not give any response to this comment, the king decides to get back to his own duties, adding on a quick reminder for the day ahead. "Emil, don't forget we've got hearings in an hour."

"I haven't," the prince replies. He especially does not want to forget since today's hearings come directly from couriers of the neighboring kingdoms. Messages from as close as Belethren and Dotriba will be there, along with affairs as far as Tabrini and even Arbren. This will be the first time the prince can sit at one of the foreign policies hearings, and he looks forward to seeing what sorts of settlements his brother and the king have to deal with when they are not feasting or hunting together.

"Take care, Mathias," the prince lightly bows to him as he prepares to leave. His pet also bows until his face is parallel with the floor. The prince cannot even see his face until the king leaves and he lifts himself in an upright position. As always, he compliments his pet for remembering his royal customs and pats him on his head. "You did well, Leon. Shall we start another game? Maybe we can finish it before the hearings start."

His pet nods, and they return to their seats; however, there is something peculiar about the way the chess pieces are set up. Each one is in the exact position as they were in before the prince knocked them to the ground. At first, the prince thinks it must be a simple coincidence, but he soon remembers the position of his queen and the number of mercenaries he had left on the board. Even the pieces that he and his pet claimed are on each other's side in the same arrangement. The only possible answer to this phenomenon is that Leon single-handedly memorized the exact placement of each chess piece this entire time.

"Leon, you're amazing," the prince says with his mouth half open. "You were paying attention the entire time?"

To his credit, the boy just shrugs as though treating it like a casual claim and nothing out of the ordinary. "It's your turn, Master."

"Pardon?" he looks up. "Right. Yes, I remember now. I was about to move until Mathias came in." He stares at the board and looks upon it. His strategy has since been lost, and he takes a good few minutes to devise a plan fresh in his mind. He wonders all the while if his pet still remembers his own strategy and thinks to lightly bring it up in between turns.

"So, Leon, how did you manage to memorize the pieces?" he asks. "Did you learn how to do that somewhere? It's very amazing."

The boy's eyes wander to the chessboard as he places down a sage and claims one of the prince's mercenaries. "Something my father told me about," he mutters in jumbled Crodinian.

Now that the prince thinks about it, he realizes he knows very little about his own pet's history. He has been trying to keep it hidden away for so long that he never bothered to pry too much. "Your father plays chess?"

"Never did." His pet sits in waiting while waiting for the next move. For a brief spell, his entire body is as still as stone save for his pair of golden orbs that jolt and twitch as he reads the battlefield. The prince wonders if perhaps he has been trained in the art of war and strategy considering his empire was under attack for several years.

"There had to have been some way you learned." The prince moves a tower in front of his pet's general, ensuring his safety with his looming queen waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Again, the Altorienese boy shrugs. "My father just told me to keep my enemies close. That and studying. Lots of studying."

"Oh…" The prince watches as his pet suddenly brings out his queen and takes his general. His own queen is now prone to an attack from the opposing general, forcing him to sacrifice his sage if he wants to protect his king. "That was good," he mutters. "I didn't see that."

His pet says nothing and waits for him to enact his strategy. While doing so, the prince's eyes study the new playing field. He still has more assets, but the manner in which Leon distributed his mercenaries leaves him little room for retreat. Either he will have to take a brute force approach or wither in a slow defensive stance. When at last his pet plays his turn, he does not claim a mercenary that threatens his tower, but instead moves his own mercenary forward.

Perhaps, the prince thinks, the Altorienese boy is simply new to the game, and he takes the last of his towers with his mercenary. Through and through, they play, coaxing out their players until they are both forced to move their kings and queens to advance. The prince grows focused. He has played games with his brother and never won a fair game, but this is an entirely new kind of strategy. It feels like bait and switch: when he thinks he is winning, a new threat arises to keep his mind racing to reconstruct his plans. Eventually, he becomes so caught up in protecting his king that he fails to see his opponent's mercenary trekking to his field and reaches the other side.

"Master, my queen back, please," Leon says, holding out his hand to reclaim his queen that the prince earlier captured.

"…It's yours," the prince begrudgingly sighs and hands his pet the queen. He scolds himself for failing to see that little ploy. Out of everything, he was so focused on the important pieces and protecting his king and queen that he failed to see the mercenary sneaking its way over to his side. And worst of all, now that his pet has a queen, his king is completely vulnerable. With his mercenaries in the way, his queen cannot come to his king's aid in time. He stops and calculates it through. If he moves one way, he can buy some time, but the remaining sage will come to claim his king. Another direction, and the kings will fight with Leon's taking the other's head. Last but not least is the queen. She is too strong and expansive. Her area of attack makes it impossible for him to escape. Even after stalling, he cannot hope to win. He has lost this game. Leon takes this win.

"You won, Leon."

His pet blankly stares as it not looking directly at him.

The prince, while abash about losing, takes his king from the board and presents it to his pet. "Here. You earned it."

Tilting his head, the boy accepts the prize and holds it in his hands. This is his first win for his first game, and the prince is honestly awestruck. If this is Leon's true caliber, he wonders how well he might fare against someone like his brother. It cannot be just a fluke, he thinks, after seeing him place each piece back on the board in their correct places. Leon is a worthy opponent.

"Thank you, Master," his pet bows.

"Think nothing of it," he faintly smiles. "You deserved it. But we have to clean up now. I need to get ready for the hearings."

"Yes, Master," Leon responds and assists him in putting the pieces back in their case. When they finish, the prince leads his pet down to the entrance of the throne room. No one save for royalty, esteemed advisors, scribes, and the couriers are allowed in the throne room during this time. Leon is no exception, so he spends his time in the courtyard until the prince finishes.

"It looks like it's going to be sunny, so stay inside the shade, alright?" the prince instructs his pet. "Wait for me here. I'll get you when I come back."

"Yes, Master."

Before leaving, he leans forward and places a light kiss atop his pet's forehead. "I'm proud of you, Leon. You're very clever."

"Thank you, Master…" he can barely hear his pet say as he bows his head. "Take care."

"I will, Leon," the prince smiles at him and enters the throne room where his brother and the king are already preparing for the long hours ahead.

* * *

Much to the prince's disappointment, the foreign affairs are barely different than the rest of the hearings he has attended. Most local hearings consist of receiving more aid for plowing fields or lesser tax burdens on their villages to survive another year in the drought seasons. The foreign affairs hardly differ in that they are more glamorized versions of subject needs: a duke from Thursaunia wants the king to attend a party in celebration for his niece's wedding, Arbren wants to open a trading port from the western seas for easier trade, and Dotriba wants some funding and participants for a grand tournament they are holding in a months' time. Through and through, the king, the Shadow, and the advisors collaborate and consolidate together in order to come up with reasonable solutions to these propositions. Not all of them go smoothly, and some are declined altogether. In the events of all of these decisions, not once does the prince get a chance to state his own opinion. At this point, however, he is not sure if his vote will make much of a difference. He has knowledge of the other kingdoms, but without understanding how each kingdom works first-handedly, he is better off sticking to his books and maps than sitting beside his brother.

After the last of the Dotriban couriers are taken care of, the hearings undergo a recess before finishing with Belethren and Tabrini. The king disappears to consult with his advisors while the prince and his brother move to the side room for some privacy.

"How are you taking the foreign affairs, little brother?" Lukas asks when they take a seat in plush chairs better than the stiff seats made of wood and metal.

"I thought they'd be more…I don't know. Exciting?"

"Exciting?" his brother echoes with some amusement to his voice. "Silly Emil, being a king may have its privileges, but most of the tasks they attend to are normally anything but exciting."

The prince's expression falls. "Yes, I figured as much."

His brother strokes his white hair. "So what were you expecting?"

He chews on his lower lip. "I just thought maybe we'd do something interesting like helping build monuments from the war or trying to restore some of the fallen cities with one another. Or even travelling to the Otherlands. I was hoping…" His voice softens. "Maybe that's what it was. I was hoping for too much."

Sensing his despairing disappointment, the prince's brother takes his head and leans it against his shoulder. As he speaks, he fawns over his soft tufts in the same manner their mother once did for them many years ago. "Little brother, the kingdoms take care of their own affairs after the war. This is a time of restless peace. The kingdoms are still not completely stable yet. These things take time to repair. Even though we allied together to defeat the Altorienese Empire, the kingdoms still have trouble trusting one another—especially when Altorien attacked so suddenly. For that matter, we were doing it more for the sake of our own people, not for each other. That is why they do not bring up these things, and that is why the kingdoms are separated the way they are."

As he speaks, the prince's eyes grow heavy with the familiar touch of his brother's hand. He nearly drifts to sleep having spent his mental energy for the day and having to sit for hours without any exercise. He looks out of the thin window to the fields growing greener with the passing days. With the summer sun hovering over Crodinia in longer hours, the nights will end in the north completely, making for interesting vacationing and sleeping habits. A thought occurs to him that he might ask his brother for permission to travel to the north with his pet to visit his uncles. It has been so long since he last saw them.

"Don't worry too much about the restrictions, little brother," Lukas continues. "There are instances when we do settle trading affairs personally. And since you're of age, perhaps one day, you can come with us."

"Really?" Hearing this, the prince immediately opens his eyes and sits up like an overzealous child. "I'd love to…! I mean, that would be wonderful, brother."

His brother smiles and kisses him with a warm embrace. Beneath his thin, cold hands lies a burning warmth that only a loving brother can express. "I'm sure it would, Emil."

* * *

Shortly after, the hearings resume with the couriers from Belethren and Tabrini. Belethren is the first to go, listing off details of trading partnerships and negotiating deals. Most of the negotiations between the kingdoms run smoothly; Mathias is a good friend to Belethren's Tulip King, Tim Maes, and the two used to spend hours discussing trading opportunities with the other kingdoms using ports and new shipping canals. With some quick consulting with his advisors, Mathias settles on building a new port in his kingdom's southeastern seas so that Belethren might trade with them more easily.

When the decision is made official, Lukas turns to the seer of the hearings and asks for the Tabrinish representatives. "All of the Belethrenic affairs have been addressed. Bring in the first Tabrinish courier."

The seer summons the first—and apparently only—representative who has been waiting for a good three hours now. As he comes in, he holds a simple roll of parchment tucked in a simple leather casing, where the others usually brought with them bags to carts of documents to justify their propositions.

"This should be quick," the prince hears his brother mutter. The king then grants the courier permission to speak, and the throne room falls silent for him.

"Your Highnesses, Mathias Køhler and Lukas Bondevik, I am here on behalf of the Department of Tabrinish Investigations to bring you a message from the chief with a royal decree from the Kirkland family, themselves."

Mathias gestures a hand at the man. "Present your case."

The courier bows. "There have been mysterious raids on Tabrinish reserves built specifically for the Altorienese prisoners, consisting of pillaging residential homes and murdering children and women. As of now, the origins of the attacks have not been discovered, but there have been similar cases all over the island kingdoms. Further messages have been sent out to the other kingdoms, but with Crodinia as one of Tabrini's allies currently, the kings thought to send this message to you posthaste. This is a message bringing caution and concern should you be harboring any Altorienese prisoners and/or colonies. "

The throne room, being silent, hears a scoff from their king's husband and second-in-command. Lukas wears a disinterested expression after hearing the final message of the hearings. "Is this what this is about? Then we don't have anything to fear. We did not take any Altorienese prisoners to use them as slaves or any obvious colonies from the fallen empire. Those have been left and sold to the other kingdoms, and even if there were attacks, if the target is women and children, so be it. There will be less Altorienese scum in the world, but if you so want, then we will keep your kings' warnings into consideration."

Having said what most of the royal court thinks, Lukas turns to his husband for any lingering thoughts. "Have anything to say on the matter, Your Highness?"

"Nothing," the king says. "But Lukas is right. We'll take heed of your warning. Thank you for telling us and being so patient today."

The courier humbly bows to the royal family. "Of course, Your Highness. Serving you is a pleasure."

"Then you are dismissed," the Shadow says, waving his hand at him. "Your Highness?"

The king clears his throats. "I declare the hearings over. Thank you all for coming here."

With that, the courier exits the same way he came, and the rest of the court retreats into the discussion chambers. The prince's brother urges him to stay close and places a hand around his shoulder while they follow the king out of the throne room.

"Ah, what a day," the king yawns and takes off his crown and places it in its proper casing. He is always eager to remove his crown when he can, having always struggled to put the heavy headpiece on with his overly messy hair. "I'm starving. Lukas, Emil, what about you two?"

"I could use some nourishment," Lukas tells him. "And you, little brother?"

"S-Same…" the prince sheepishly admits. "But I have to retrieve my pet first. I'll join you in the dining hall, then?"

"Alright. See ya there." The king then leaves without another word, eager to get his mind off of the hearings and finally exercise after sitting for so long. Lukas, on the other hand, decides to escort his brother and follows him to the courtyard where the Altorienese pet supposedly is. Along the way, he chats with his brother about his progress with his gift.

"So how has your training been holding up, little brother?"

"Smoothly," the prince says with some pride. "He's very smart. I've been teaching him Crodinian."

"And how has that been going?"

"Very well. He has an accent, but he knows enough Crodinian that I can converse with him. And he is a good chess player. He…He defeated me on our first game."

"Huh." The prince's brother stalls in his response. "Perhaps he will prove a worthy opponent if he can beat you…or were you going easy on him?"

The prince purses his lips. "I don't believe I was. He won fairly."

"Maybe your instructions were good. But that aside, you are happy with your gift?"

"Very much, brother," the prince smiles. "I've never had a better one. Thank you."

"Not at all. Anything to make my little brother happy."

The prince continues to smile, and they walk together until they reach the courtyard, but much to the prince's surprise, his pet is not in the same spot he left him in. "That's odd," he frowns. "I could have sworn I left him right here. He's never gone against my word before." His brother is silent as he searches the courtyard for any sign of his pet. He calls out Leon's name, but when he receives no response, he begins to worry.

"Brother, I can't find him." His heart starts to hurt. He cannot imagine where his pet could have gone to not even respond to his voice. The castle is large, and if his pet got lost, there is no telling where he might have wandered off.

His brother fortunately has a calm and logical mind in situations like these and goes to the nearest soldier for clues. "Sir, my brother is looking for his pet, an Altorienese boy, somewhere around his teens. Have you heard or seen anything about him?"

The guard shakes his head. "No, Your Highness. I just came here for my shift barely ten minutes ago. I have not received any word of activity regarding that, but I will inform you as soon as possible if I receive any information."

The prince gets an uneasy sense of dread. It is just like the time he went through the dungeon to retrieve his pet on the other side of the castle grounds. He pet could be suffering again, and it is his fault. He should have been more careful and considerate. It would have been easier for him to take his pet into a safe place, and he scolds himself for not thinking things through. Most of all, he promised that nothing would happen to his pet, and if he cannot keep that promise as his master and a companion, then what good would he be for his subjects, he wonders?

"Brother, I'm so sorry…" His voices weighs with the burdening unease and concern for his pet. He wants to find him as soon as possible, even if it means tearing apart the entire castle to do so.

Sensing how distraught his brother is, Lukas places a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "Shh, everything will be fine, Emil."

"But how can you be so sure?"

"Have I ever let you down, little brother?"

"Well, no, you haven't." He is being truthful about that, too.

"And I don't plan to do so now." He chuckles, something the prince did not expect. "Normally, I would let you look for him, myself, but I'm curious to know what your little pet has gotten himself into if he went against your word. It will be fun thinking of his punishment. What do you think is appropriate?"

The prince swallows and leafs through his thoughts. He has not forgotten about the night in the dungeon. His brother said he would personally torture and kill his pet if he so much as went against his word. He is certain his brother has not forgotten of the threat he made, either, and races to think of something before his brother settles on his decision.

"I will chain him," he quickly decides on. "Like a leash on a dog. If I do that and carry him with me wherever I go, I will not have to worry about him running off, and everyone will know he belongs to me." He also adds, "And no matter where I go, no one will speculate about him anymore. They will not think he is my servant or a companion. He is my pet, and I will make that clear to everyone in the entire kingdom—the world if I have to."

He watches his brother smile and run his fingers through his hair. He speaks with an icy pride, which he rarely does, but it does the job of sending an exhilarating chill down the prince's spine. "That's a good idea, Emil. If that is your wish and proposed solution then I will help you go through with it."

"Thank you, brother." The prince's speech becomes forced and rigid, but it is not often when he has the privilege of being praised by his brother, let alone earning a genuine smile from him. Having been humbled by his brother and his king's accomplishments, it is a great amount of honor for him to experience anything like this. With his brother following closely alongside him, he quickens his pace and continues their search for his pet.

The brothers eventually come up to one of the maids packing dirty sheets from the guards' barracks and swapping them with newly washed ones. Lukas goes to her first, inquiring about his brother's pet's whereabouts.

"I remember seeing some guards chasing a boy outside to the western halls," she tells him.

"What did he look like?" the prince hurriedly asks.

"Dark hair, red tunic…He was agile. They were shouting at him."

The prince's stomach twists in knots for the concern of his pet. "Did the guards look like they had any reason to chase him? Did the boy give him one?"

The maid furrows her eyebrows. "I don't know. They were just chasing him, telling him that he shouldn't stop running. Forgive me, Prince Emil. That is all I recall."

"It's enough information to tell us where we need to look," Lukas says. "Thank you."

"It's nothing but a pleasure, Your Highness," she bows to him and returns to her work as they brothers make their way towards the western courtyard. The entire time they walk, the prince can only speculate why the guards were after his pet. He never made it too clear that the boy was his property, but he thought that from his pet's clothes, alone, that it would be enough to tell anyone that he was not an ordinary boy. Apparently, he thought wrong, and the feeling begins to overshadow the pride he felt from earlier. He hopes that at the very least nothing happened to his pet. It will be on him if he sees any harm done to his precious Leon.

They reach the western courtyard where the sun is starting to set. With the western side of the castle reserved for combat training, there are few trees and landscaping and plenty of open space.

"It shouldn't be too hard to find him out here," the prince tells his brother as he looks around. He nearly begins to call for his pet when he hears something in the distance alongside the castle wall.

"…Yeah! Toss him over here! Kick him! Kick him!"

"Not so tough now, are ya, boy!"

"Kneel, swine!"

The prince's heart skips a beat. His blood runs cold as he runs towards the voices as fast as his weakening breath will allow him. It is only when he reaches the wall and sees what is unfolding that he finally stops, unable to handle what is being done.

"Squeal, you Altorienese scum!" One of the castle guards shouts and spits onto a groveling boy's clothes as another pins him down by his hair. Even when looking from a distance, one can make out the dirt smudges and wounds caused by knives, fists, and armored shoes. In contrast to the Crodinians' blonde hair, the boy's dark brown hair identifies him from the rest of the men tormenting him and burying his face deep in the mud like a rundown beast.

The prince tries to scream at the guards, but no sound comes out. His voice is lost on his choking lungs as he sees his precious pet being abused by the very men that swore to protect him. They kick at his pet and poke him with spears as if trying to taunt him into fighting; it will give them the excuse to put him down like any wild animal that threatens to resist them. Being caught up in the moment, the prince feels something run down his cheek. His stomach feels sick; his lungs want to burst. He collapses on the ground knees first, helpless to himself and his pet being killed slowly. Through his blurring vision, he barely makes out the dark figure that glides past him, brushes the top of his head, grabs the nearest sword from an unsuspecting guard, and runs it straight through one of their throats.

A fountain of red comes pouring out of the man's arteries as the rest of the guards stare appalled and in horror. The unfortunate man chokes and gurgles on his own blood, trying with the last of his strength to remove the blade embedded within his neck. In a dying attempt to stop the pain, he brings his hands to his sword and barely touches it before falling to the earth like a limp bundle of rags. The blood continues to pour out of his failing heart even moments after his consciousness leaves him for good.

"Y-Your Highness!" one of the remaining guards gasps. "What in Crodinia are you doing?"

The prince cannot see his brother's face, as it is turned away from him. Even now, when the Shadow speaks with the other guards, his voice sounds void of any life or sympathy for the man he killed.

"You make my brother cry, you chase and torment his pet—my gift to him—and you have the audacity, the  _gall,_ to ask me what I'm doing? Clearly you are not fit to serve the crown if you are acting this way to your kingdom's second-in-command."

"Your Highness, please!" one of the guards pleas. "We didn't know this boy was your brother's! We thought he was some Altorienese hooligan! Honest! Please forgive us!"

In a split second, the Shadow's voice turns from hostile to sinister. Every word that pours from his mouth drips like a dark, malicious sap that grows with every second he speaks and sticks like thorns to the ears it falls upon. "Oh, I'll forgive you all. Once your services end, there will be no reasons to hold onto my wrath towards you."

Without warning or hesitation, he pulls the sword from the fallen guard's neck and brings it flying into the eye of a guard. His strike true, the blade lodges itself all the way through the man's skull and comes out trailing with steaming red blood and pink, gelatinous brain matter. By the time he pulls the sword out, the last guard has already abandoned his oath and sanity. Frightened, he starts to flee when he trips unexpectedly. Even with his body frozen, the prince can still see that it was Leon who reached out and tripped the guard, giving the Shadow the perfect opportunity to sink his sword into the back of the deserter's neck, killing him within seconds.

Once all of the guards are dead, the Shadow releases the sword and lets out a frustrated sigh. "What a waste of resources," he speaks with an uninterested voice. "They certainly weren't worth the time to train and pay." He looks upon his brother's pet with distaste at the scene that unfolded. The boy's hands are sore and red, and his skin is drenched with sweat and blood from his wounds. His clothes have since been muddied unrecognizable to any royalty, and he looks completely defeated, all in all. "You're lucky, boy," he spits. "Really lucky. This is the second time I've saved your life. You should be grateful my brother enjoys your company so much." He bends down and picks the Altorienese boy by the muddy collar of his tunic and drags him over to his brother who is still fallen on his knees.

"Emil, stand," he instructs him. "Here is your pet." He throws the boy down in front of him and examines his fingernails. "Filthy," he mutters with disgust at the blood and grime. "Still easier than hiring an executioner. Come, little brother. Mathias is surely waiting for us. We wouldn't want the food to get cold sitting around here, would we?"

With shaky legs and an even weaker stomach, the prince eventually brings himself to his feet and gazes upon his pet. Leon stares at him with a calm look; it bears no hostility or hatred towards him. He appears to look at his master with forgiveness and relief to the prince and himself.

"Master, I'm alright," he whispers despite his weak stature. "Don't cry."

"Leon…" the prince sniffs. "I'm sorry. I should have been there. I couldn't protect you…" He hiccups and wipes his stream of tears away. He feels pathetic crying like this in front of his brother and Leon, but he cannot stop. It is only until his brother helps him walk that he finally dries his tears.

"Let's get you both cleaned up," he tells him with some exhaustion. "You're both a mess. If it's too much trouble meeting us in the dining hall, I'll send someone to bring you food to your chambers. Would you like that, Emil?"

The prince sniffles and nods. "Yes. Thank you, brother."

"Of course," the Shadow smiles.

As they walk, they hear another voice coming from the boy who Lukas saved.

"Thank you, Your Highness." Perfect Crodinian. His voice, while weary, bears no accent unlike what the prince mentioned before. He is learning quickly.

"Of course." The Shadow continues to smile.

* * *

The metal feels cold against his skin. He rubs it and tries to move it away from his neck so it will not touch him. The striking gold luster reflects against his eyes like a mocking reminder of who and what he is: an Altorienese dog—a pet. He remains still and obedient when his master approaches him and kisses him, every amount of it a pure reflection of his emotions. The prince cares too much for him. It can almost be considered a foolish kind of love, but he takes it for what it is and lets the collar stay around his neck.

His master whispers some Crodinian into his ear, which he can start to make out. It sounds along the lines of staying by his side. He allows him to stroke him and pet him. The prince is too kind a person to be a royal figurehead—and too naïve.


	5. His Game

In the middle of the southern courtyard, cold metal and wood clash together in a match of ability and endurance. Here, the soldiers and guards of the crown train and sharpen their abilities, though the demand for improvement is not as high with the kingdom being at peace. Nevertheless, the king cannot resist a good match and often enjoys sword fighting with the younger recruits to test their potential first-handed. The prince and his pet are also here, watching the matches from atop the balcony and snacking on fruits imported from Arbren until the cooks finish their preparations for dinner.

"Nice swing, solider! You've got a good arm, so use it well!" The king's voice bellows out from the rest of the spectators watching him compete with the young soldiers. When he spends his time like this, with an attitude free of his royal duties, people forget that he is their king and more of a friend on equal levels. His charisma infectious, most of the new recruits are eager to get a first-hand experience at watching their king and mentor practice with such energy.

The prince grabs a red spiky fruit from his tray and tears it open, pouring out a mixture of sweet nectar and seeds into a bowl. He offers some to his pet and continues looking down at the matches from his comfortable position. "He's always like that, you know. He used to compete all the time with my brother and the castle mentors when we were children. It doesn't look like it, but my brother knows how to handle a sword, too."

His pet looks over to him. "What about you, Master?"

"I've never taken up a sword before," the prince admits. "My brother said I never needed to learn how to fight; he told me that my body wasn't properly built for such rough activities, so I've always just watched them."

The boy tilts his head. "You don't know how to defend yourself?"

The prince presses his lips together. "Again, I've never needed to learn. My brother's always been there to protect me, no matter what. He's made sure that wherever I go, no harm will come to me. For that, I'm grateful to have such a brother like him. Come to think of it, I never did ask if you have siblings. Do you have any brothers or sisters, Leon?"

Like with most things he asks about his pet's past, Leon simply shrugs and continues on with his casual observations of the match. As he speaks, however, it is clear that his Crodinian has vastly improved. His accent is still noticeable, but his ability to carry on a conversation at such an early stage in learning is remarkable. "I don't know. I suppose if I did, I've never met them."

"Why would that be?" the prince asks, curious as to why anyone would want to separate someone's siblings.

"During the war, it was just safer to scatter us around, I guess," the Altorienese boy vaguely answers. "I just remember moving around a lot."

The prince blinks. "But you were with your father?"

"Sometimes." His pet is hesitant to reply in such a way.

"Do you miss your father, Leon?"

This time, his pet answers immediately. "No."

The prince wants to ask why; he desperately wants to know, but at the same time, he feels as if he is treading into unfamiliar territory. As someone who has both of his parents and lives a comfortable, sheltered life, he cannot imagine what sorts of ordeals his pet underwent in order to be here. He is sure the stories can weave an adventure all on their own, but he believes those are for another place and another time, perhaps when his pet can trust him enough to freely tell him on his own.

"Alright! Who's next?" Mathias has since finished his last match against the knight. The prince thought the knight to be able, but he has known not to underestimate the king's abilities; he has an immense amount of energy that rarely ceases to falter even after his joints are sore and his skin and hair are soaked with sweat. When no man comes forth, a new, yet ominous voice breaks through the crowd.

"This is getting ridiculous, Mathias. Finish up here, so we can go back inside. You smell." It is the Shadow. Ever since that day when he killed three able castle guards, the entire barracks became wary of their kingdom's second-in-command. What frightens them most of all is how easily he dispatched his own men without a second's thought. It does not help that he is excellent at masking his facial expressions, lurking in the darkness as his title suggests. As much as it disturbs the prince, too, he understands his brother was only acting out of his best interests. This is not the first time he has been taken under the care of his brother's wing, relying on him so much; however, he has never minded, understanding that without his brother, he would be rather weak and helpless to the outside elements. For that matter, his brother means everything to him. Lukas will kill for him—and he has.

Even though Lukas tells him to stop, Mathias is not too inclined to listen to his husband. He insists he has the strength for at least fifteen fights, not including the ones he already won. With no other means of forcing him to stop, Lukas steps in and makes a statement.

"Very well. If you're so stubborn on your position, then  _I_ will fight you."

The entire courtyard stops in that very instance. For the Shadow to fight the Sun King will be a match to talk about for days if not weeks. It has been a long time since anyone has seen the two fighting against each other, and even then, there are few who have gotten the chance to see them. The prince is one of the only ones who has been given a privilege time and time again. He, too, is eager to see how Mathias will take this proposal.

"Lukas, ya sure yer up to it?" he nervously laughs. "I'm not gonna go easy on ya just because yer my husband."

"All the better to not hold back, myself," the Shadow calmly replies. "If I win, you'll stop with these silly fights and let the soldiers go back to their training. You have better things to do than playing around."

A soft wave of murmurs shifts around the spectators. From the edges, the prince can see some of the younger and more excitable knights running off to tell others of the match that might occur, and eventually, a larger crowd has gathered in the southern courtyard to see the action.

"Ha! I can't disappoint all these people!" The king sweeps his arms in a large, welcoming stance. "Alright, let's do this! Me an' you, Lukas!"

The men all start to cheer for the thrilling event. Both the Sun King and the Shadow are well known in different areas of combat to the point where they practically stand as polar opposites: where Mathias relies on power and speed, Lukas relies on defense and cunning. Truly this will be a match to remember. The prince is just as eager as the rest of the crowd that is still growing in size.

"My brother's stronger than he looks," he tells his pet with a hint of pride. "He's not second-in-command for nothing, you know. I've heard stories from veterans talking about how skilled he is on the battlefield. Together, he and Mathias are invincible."

His pet stares down at the two opponents as they choose their swords. Since this is still a friendly match, wooden swords are presented for safety purposes. Mathias already has his preferred prop in hand and waits for his opponent to choose. Lukas eventually chooses a light-weight sword with a slender paddle and a firm hilt. He weighs it out and decides this will be his weapon of choice.

"Hey, Lukas, if I win, I'm gonna go ahead with building that ship!"

"How very like you," the Shadow scoffs. "If you're that confident, then I'll take that as your wager."

"What ship?" Leon asks his master.

The prince rolls his eyes and sighs. "Mathias has been wanting to build a large luxury ship to sail around the world. Lukas told him again and again not to do it because it's expensive, and there are better things to do than traveling. In any case, that also means he will have to rule the kingdom in his stead, but everyone's certain Mathias only wants to travel with my brother, so he would mostly likely end up tagging along, too."

"Leaving you in charge," his pet concludes.

"Yes…" The prince's voice trails off. "But that is why I hope my brother will win." His pet falls silent and continues to watch. Sometime in between the countdown period, the prince points to his brother. "Leon, do you notice anything different about my brother?"

"Different?" the boy blinks.

"Look hard." He points to him below. "You'd be surprised at how many of his opponents miss it."

His Altorienese pet studies the Shadow until he thinks he has an idea of what his master meant. Nothing else can be defined about him except for one outstanding factor. "He's left-handed."

"Yes, that's it," the prince smiles and pets him. "My brother's always been used to fighting right-handed opponents, but it's rarely ever the other way around. Because of that, alone, he's won several fights. Even Mathias who's fought with him for so long is still unused to it."

This makes his pet completely focus on the match. As the two count down to start, the entire courtyard seems to hold its breath in anticipation.

"Three…two…one!"

Like a flash of red lightning, Mathias charges forth and aims for Lukas' shoulder. He moves so fast that the untrained eyes can barely see what is happening. As he approaches Lukas, he brings his arm back and swings forward, appearing to land a blow, but, at the very last second, the Shadow slips away with some quick footwork and arises unscathed.

From here, the match has begun. Two different styles and people shift and jab, taking little attacks at each other like poisonous barbs slowly whittling down one another. However many times Mathias attacks, he never appears to falter in strength or energy, but he can never land a clean hit on Lukas. Even when he manages to make contact with him, Lukas always brings his sword out to block his attacks. Other times, he will easily dance out of the way and strike back with quick succession, keeping the king on his feet. Neither of them makes any clear strikes at one another, but it is clear that both are closely matched, yet surprisingly different in personality and movements. Lukas is like water: smooth and adapting, yet bringing forth a torrent of unrelenting blows when given a sure window. Mathias is like fire: unpredictable and powerful. The two elements clash together in a fury of spectacular movements and skill, dancing around one another in harmonious chaos. No one can match them. In the horizon at just the right angle, day and night mix together in a fiery twilight. They are as two halves to a whole, light and darkness, the sun and the shadow.

The match continues for several minutes. Not once does it look like anyone gives way to the other. Mathias looks energized; Lukas looks calm. As they attack, every rally comes as a new lesson to the young knights. How they react to one another's attacks and respond continues to adapt and change. The courtyard is rendered speechless. Even above, the prince and his pet are completely focused on the match.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" the prince breathes, holding his pet close to him and stroking his hair.

"Yes, Master," the boy agrees. "Who do you think will win?"

The prince holds that question until he can properly assess the status. It appears as though the battle is finally starting to slow down. Lukas does not block as often as he did, and Mathias' swings are taken into shorter succession. It will be a close win, whoever will overcome the other. "I have no idea at this point, Leon. They rarely fight against each other, and even when they do, the results are closely tied. It's been so long since they've fought, I've realized." He sighs. "I don't think they've done this since the war started. After that, they practiced alongside one another, never against each other." He pauses when he sees Mathias falter backwards from a countering blow Lukas delivers. The crowd gasps as they watch their king stumble and fall from his feet.

"Is that the best you can do?" Lukas dryly sneers, circling his sword at his husband. "I've seen you last longer in bed, Your Highness."

The courtyard explodes in laughter. From the balcony, the prince covers his face as if witnessing something unholy and shakes his head. This makes the king clamor to his feet and lunge for another attack, striking even harder than ever; however, he is also less controlled with his movements, and with some patience and skill, Lukas blocks and dodges each swing. It is in a short window of time that he sees an opening in his opponent's patterns and goes for the final delivery. Sweeping his legs underneath Mathias' arm, he brings himself around to the back and turns to face him. With his momentum rushing forth, he guides his sword around him like a spinning gear and makes direct contact with Mathias' backside.

Taken by surprise, Mathias cries out and falls back on the ground, this time face down. He coughs up a mouthful of dirt and attempts to get up when he feels a strong weight pushing on his head.

"You lost, Mathias," Lukas snorts, aiming his sword at his king. "The blow would have rendered your arms useless. Now get up." He lifts his foot and turns on his heel, returning his wooden prop to its rightful place. With the match over, the crowd lets out a deep breath and congratulates the Shadow for winning. With the excitement dying down, they resume chatting about the events they witness and how to bring that into their own swordsmanship. Meanwhile, knights assist the king to his feet and bring him water and towels. He looks appreciative, but the prince can see his disappointed and defeated expression breaking through his smile.

"Lukas, ya bested me," he weakly smiles. "Nice fight. I thought I'd pull through, but ya won fair and square." His husband only huffs and snaps at him to finish up with the knights so they may eat dinner.

"Get yourself cleaned up, Mathias," he tells the king. "You're absolutely disgusting. I don't understand why you waste your time with those new recruits when you can help the professionals."

"Understood, Lukas!" the Sun King cheerfully responds and follows him into the castle.

"I guess he's not building the ship after all," the prince sighs with relief. "I think we're done here, too, Leon. Are you ready for dinner?"

"Yes, Master," his pet nods and goes with him to the dining hall.

* * *

Though he barely broke a sweat when conducting the match, Lukas orders the servants to prepare a bath for him before dinner. He never enjoys the thought of carrying away any dirt or foul smells with him during times of relaxation. After his bath fills, and the oils and salts are added, he checks himself in the looking glass for any injuries Mathias might have inflicted on his skin. He strips in front of a body-length looking glass and examines himself for any blemishes. While never appearing to care on the surface, he knows how much his husband enjoys running his hands down his flawless body.

"Nothing," he softly murmurs and makes his way to the bath when he realizes he is not the only one in the royal bathhouse. Stopping midway, he looks ahead at the white columns and searches for the other's presence.

"Fancy you only coming here just as I've taken off my clothes, Mathias," he smirks. From behind one of the columns, his husband steps out with a crooked smile.

"It's not easy sneaking up on you," he chuckles. "I thought that'd be my revenge for defeating me earlier."

"You wish." Lukas lets out a dry laugh and walks to the water's edge. He dips his feet in the scented waters before finally immersing his entire body inside. "I know you're not here just to play games with me."

The king laughs. "You know me too well, Lukas. But that's one of the reasons I love you."

His husband submerges himself in the steaming water until only his head is above the surface. "Are you going to join me or not?"

"Coming, coming," Mathias grins and removes his clothes, glad to be free of the stuffy tunic he needed to wear when training. As soon as he gets into the bath, Lukas reaches out and taps a spot on his back, making the king wince in pain. "Hey, what's wrong with you, Lukas? That—" He grimaces when more pressure is applied. "It hurts a lot."

Lukas' expression is unmoved as he moves his hand around a patch of skin that has bruised over. The entire area is already a dark purple, ruining his husband's otherwise fair complexion. "The place where I hit you needs to have circulation. It's going to take longer to heal if you leave it like this."

Mathias clenches his teeth and leans on the side of the bath while Lukas massages his back. "I know, but it still hurts. You're not doing this on purpose, are you?"

"The pressing, no. The hurting, yes." It is meant as a joke, one that flies over the king's head as he laughs it off.

"I'm glad you care about me so much—even if you don't always look like you do."

Lukas says nothing as he presses harder, justifying that it will help open up the damaged veins beneath. When he finishes, he pinches hard on Mathias' back, making him curse and reel around.

"That hurt! You were doing that on purpose, weren't you?"

"Yes." His husband rarely moves around his answers or remarks, cutting straight to the point like a knife even if it fails to sink into Mathias' thick head. "You're supposed to be the king of Crodinia, and yet you flinch at little things. What would have happened if we hadn't been using wooden swords during our match?"

"That's easy." He turns around and faces his husband, pulls him up to him, and kisses his lips. "We wouldn't have taken up swords against one another. You wouldn't try hurting me, and I wouldn't try hurting you."

Lukas exhales a steamy breath as Mathias pulls him tighter against his skin. His husband's muscles have always been more developed than his own despite following the same training regime since they were children. Rubbing his body against his chest, he leans forward and rests his head beneath Mathias' chin.

"Mathias, killing someone is not a game," he whispers. "Neither is our relationship." He feels his husband's husky breath breathing down his exposed neck as he kisses it, causing him to shudder and press onto his sturdy chest.

"Game or not, you know how much I hate losing," Mathias purrs into his husband's ear. He nibbles at the shell of his ear and runs his hands down the length of his torso until he moves in between his legs. His husband is aroused, and knowing that excites him. He makes more advances, kissing and touching him where he knows him best, fondling his neck and chest, while occasionally running his tongue across his creamy skin.

Despite how pleasant it feels, he knows Lukas is holding back. This is not like their bedroom where he makes direct interactions. His lips do not give in to his tongue, and he muffles his cries whenever he strokes his legs. Seeing this as a way of teasing him, he tries even harder, rolling his tongue over his firm nipples and grinding against his hardening member. The game continues until Mathias prevails, earning a sharp moan from his husband after biting his neck. His face red, Lukas pushes away with whatever strength he has and moves towards the edge of the bath in an attempt to leave.

Going after him, Mathias grabs ahold of Lukas' waist and pulls him back into the bath, splashing quantities of scented water all over the stone floor. "Yer not goin' anywhere," he smirks. "Look at what you did, Lukas." From behind, he prods his stiff member in between his legs, and tightens his hold on his husband. Lukas stifles a cry as he shifts helplessly in place. His breathing accelerates, and his entire body grows hot. It does not help that the bath is still steaming, and the oils make him dizzy and light-headed.

"Mathias—" He winces when he feels his chest being rubbed. "Not here. They'll hear us in here. The sounds echo— _Mm!"_ Before he can say anymore, Mathias covers his hand over his mouth and nuzzles his hair.

"Let them," he whispers. "The kingdom deserves to know how much we're in love, doesn't it? Besides, I'll make it quick."

Struggling, Lukas pulls his head free, leans forward, and head-butts Mathias behind him. He gags in surprise and completely frees him from his hold, painfully clutching his nose.

"Idiot." Lukas clicks his tongue. "You'll dirty the water. I came here to bathe, not to play around before dinner. And it's foolish to do it underwater. You really want to see me in pain that badly?"

"No, I'd never harm you—not on purpose, anyway," Mathias groans from holding his nose. "That really hurt…"

"Good." By now, Lukas is on the other side of the bath, washing his hair and neck without any interference. The irritable sensation between his legs burns, but he knows if he keeps Mathias away, it will fade with time. For now, he continues his bath while Mathias recovers from his injured nose and anything else he damaged in the process. He soaks himself for some time after washing his entire body and gets up to leave, seeing Mathias still trying to fully heal from the incident.

"Hurry up and finish, Your Highness," the Shadow snaps at him as he dries his body off with a towel and changes into some fresh clothes. When he addresses Mathias as a king, he always means for him to be taken seriously. Whether or not Mathias knows of this has yet to be confirmed, considering he plays out things in his own way. "I'll bet everyone's waiting to hear about our match at dinner."

"Of course," Mathias sighs and pours water over his hair. With his hair wet and flat, he appears unusually plain, even to where Lukas finds it unfamiliar. He has never admitted to preferring his choice of hairstyle, but it is a feature that has since grown on him.

Before he leaves, Lukas turns back to look at his husband. A lasting thought trails in his mind as he speaks. "Mathias, I was being serious about what I said earlier."

The king smiles, a silent exchange mediating between the two. It is amazing at how one like him can rule a kingdom, and with such a burden weighing on his shoulders, he can still somehow manage to maintain his attitude. Crutched in between his people and his husband, the Shadow is always watching over him in the darkness, ensuring that his light withholds its strength and authority.

"And I was serious about what I said, too, Lukas: I hate losing."

* * *

Come one summer morning, the prince receives news from his brother. His brother's smile is not forced or masked; it is one of genuine well-being. "Little brother, I have a surprise for you. Here." He holds out an unrolled parchment with a ribbon still attached. The prince's heart skips a beat when he recognizes the color and fabric: sapphire blue in spun wool.

"Is it from…?" He cannot even finish his sentence. His chest is swelling as he takes the parchment with a shaky hand and begins to read the contents. His smile grows the more he reads, and by the time he finishes the letter, he cannot contain his excitement.

"Mother is coming here!" he breathes.

"Yes, little brother," Lukas coos as he kisses him. "It's been so long. I think she'll be pleased to see how much we've grown—you, especially."

The prince remains smiling. "This is all so sudden. I've not heard of anything from her for months."

"The letter arrived this morning," his brother explains. "Understand that her health is fragile, little brother. We wouldn't have wanted to pressure her into making any rash decisions unless her physicians permitted."

"Of course." The prince's expression dissolves with the mention of their mother's health. For years, she has battled with her delicate conditions. She had not even been able to witness Mathias' coronation or her own son's wedding due to the cold temperatures those summers ago. The prince, himself, has not seen her in eight years when his brother thought it best to take his mind off of the war and retreat further west. His thoughts race as he thinks of the things he will tell her in person, of the people he has conversed with or of his new hobbies and stories. Then there is Leon, whom he cannot wait to show to the rest of the royals at Mathias' party. For his mother to be there makes him even more eager for the day to come.

Even with this bit of news, the prince's brother is not done. "That's not all, little brother. You've long thought of going out to see the rest of the kingdoms, have you not?"

"Y-Yes…?" the prince replies.

"Thursaunia has invited to open its borders to us to discuss matters of a business alliance within its western neighbors. We will be visiting them for a first-hand experience, you and I, to determine whether or not such a proposition will be valid."

"An official visit?" The prince's eyes grow wide. "Why did I not hear of this in the hearings?"

"It is a matter of king and king," the prince's brother says, touching his head. "As the kingdom's second-in-command, I am permitted to hear of this news. This wasn't passed over to you or the court yet, but I am sure it will be brought up later today."

"Oh. I see. And when will we be going to Thursaunia?"

"Shortly after the Red Summer," Lukas tells him, "but I can't say how long that will last. Knowing Mathias, he will try to extend his birthday celebration for a week if he can."

The prince slightly smiles. "That would be understandable with him. Either way, I'm really looking forward to everything. This is a wonderful year."

"Indeed it is, little brother," his brother chuckles and strokes his hair. "It truly is wonderful."

Shortly after the prince leaves, he races back to his chambers where his pet is just waking up from his nap. He has since gotten used to his collar though it gets in the way of his long hair every now and then. The prince has thought of cutting it off, but he never had the heart to carry out any actions, as he enjoys the flowing touch of his Altorienese pet's dark, silky hair. As he approaches his pet, he sits on his bed and takes ahold of his hand.

"Leon, I have some good news," he cheerfully whispers. "My mother is coming to the capital for Mathias' birthday."

His pet rubs his eyes and blinks a few times before his vision clears up. When he finishes, he looks to his master. "That's good," he says. "You've been hoping to see her, right?"

"Yes," he sighs with exhilaration. "I can't wait. And after that, Thursaunia has opened its borders to Crodinia. I will be going there after Mathias' birthday celebration is over." He leans forward and gingerly kisses his pet's forehead. "You're coming with me. I want you to be there when we explore the kingdom. And it's not just any part of Thursaunia; it's the west."

Curious, his pet stares blankly at him, unsure of how to react. Catching himself, the prince takes the time to explain. "The Alliance of Thursaunia was established after Roderich Edelstein and Elizabeta Héderváry married, uniting two kingdoms into one. However, one could say the alliance is technically made up of  _three_  kingdoms. The western part of Thursaunia was assimilated into the Edelsteins' kingdom long ago, but it holds a separate governing system so as long as they agree to remain under the crown. It's the richest part of Thursaunia, too. If we come to agreeable terms, I'm sure there will be an influx of wealth pouring into Crodinia's vaults."

The prince stands from the bed, walking over to his nightstand and taking his collection of fairytales to his pet. "Enough of that. Come, Leon. Sit up. There's still some time before my hearings, so let's practice your reading. You can choose the story this time." He hands his pet the book and waits for him to find a story. Already, they have finished a third of the fairytales with Leon's Crodinian improving with each reading. Today, he chooses a Crodinian tale and flips to the first page.

"The Horned Goddess," he reads the title aloud.

"Oh." The prince's face washes over in a distortion of troubled emotions. "This story…"

Leon looks to him. "Is there something wrong with this one?"

From the look on his face, it appears that the prince is reluctant to answer him right away. His eyes glaze over, and he chews on his lower lip as if anxious about giving saying anything. "This one is…How can I say it? It's my mother's least favorite story. It frightens her, that someone would go through such lengths." Right after finishing that statement, he changes his expression and stays firm. "But it's alright. This is a popular Crodinian story, and it can be interpreted differently. In any case, you need to work on your Crodinian, so you can keep going."

His permission granted, Leon continues to read the rest of the story. "The Horned Goddess" tells the tale of the goddess of all wildlife. She deeply loved the animals and the nature that surrounded them. One day, while walking through her forest, she found the dead body of a fawn, one that she had witnessed being born into the world only a few weeks prior. It had been shot with an arrow, skinned, and gutted for its meat, but the body and everything else had been left there to rot in the open earth. Saddened by this incident, she took the dead fawn's remains and sought out to find a proper burial place when she spotted some more humans continuing with their hunt.

The goddess soon came to the realization that countless animals throughout the land—wolves, elk, bears, whales, deer, rabbits, fish, and even mice—were not spared, for they were thought to be a pest on human fields. She could not stop the killings. No matter where she went, it seemed there was always violence and humans, bringing forth destruction and ruin wherever they settled. Before anyone knew it, including the goddess, herself, she had grown mad from watching her beloved creatures and friends fall victim to humans. However, she was bound by her nature to never interfere with humans directly, so, instead, she took it upon herself to protect the animals in what she thought the best way possible.

"She ate them," is what Leon reads. He pauses and stares at the words, furrowing his eyebrows at what he just said. "Master, she  _ate_  them?" The prince nods and urges him to continue, and so, he does.

Rumors told of a fearsome goddess who would tear up lands and consume entire herds with a single gulp. As she continued to consume the animals, she grew into a great size, becoming a threat to the humans even when she never directly confronted them. She had grown to believe that by consuming the very things she loved, she would protect them from certain harm, and they would live inside of her as a single entity. It came to pass that she started to take on animalistic forms, growing wings of an eagle, the sharp eyes of a wolf, and the horns of an elk. She grew so large in size that it scared the humans away, allowing her to spread to other lands so that she might consume the animals elsewhere. In time, there were so few animals left in the world that the humans were starting to die out, too.

Angered by the treatment of the animals and the humans, the goddess' brother, the watcher of humankind, came to visit her. He had grown small with the diminishing numbers of humans, but he still had his sanity. He confronted his sister, telling her to stop eating the animals and sparing his humans the pain and suffering of starvation. But his sister would not listen to reason, and, with quick work, he took a sword of man-made steel and ripped open the belly of the goddess. From all over, the animals fled, running back to their homes for safety. With the goddess reduced to her original size, her brother went to her weakened state, and swallowed her just as she had done to the animals. He then took it upon himself to ensure that there would be enough food for his people, and he granted them the knowledge of appreciation. Humans were taught to understand that what they ate was once a living being just as they are, and they must only take what they need in order to continue living.

Leon finishes the story and closes it, eager to put away the book as his master reflects on his speaking skills.

"You did well, Leon. I'm proud of you." He strokes his hair and leans against his side. After every story, he asks what his pet thinks and learned from the story, though this time, his pet is not as inclined to speak.

"I can see why your mother didn't like this story." He stares at his master, studying his eyes as if searching for some understanding or support in his words. Since his master does not say anything, he tells him. "That's not what love is supposed to be." He stares at his hands and lowers his head. His golden collar falls from his neck and dangles in front of his eyes, weighing him down and forcing his head to follow. His eyes gloss over the luster that glints in the sunlight and waver at the flashes, recalling an instance from what felt like long ago. On a faint whisper, he thinks he can hear the sound of someone's voice calling out his name, before coming here, before accepting his position.

"A mother—any parent—does not devour or harm her children. That is not protection. That is not love. If anyone could call that love, then I can only think of what hatred could be." He tightens his fist over the covers and shakes his head, tossing his collar over his neck until it begins to cut into his skin.

"Leon," the prince starts and holds him to his chest. "Please. It's alright. I'm here for you." He digs his fingers into his pet's hair and buries his nose into his locks, inhaling his exotic Altorienese scent that smells faintly of rich lacquer and sweet spices that overpower his subtle speargrass and pine aroma.

"Master…" The boy shuts his eyes and leans against his rising and falling chest. His temper relaxes, and he eases the tension in his gut and mind. "Thank you for being so kind to me."

This is different. The prince hesitates, hearing a new kind of sincerity in his pet's tone. Normally, his pet thanks him and others out of formalities, but with the tenderness in his voice melting his heart, he feels something tugging in his chest. It can almost be considered foreign to him. The sensation disturbs him as close to nauseating but not in a sickly sort of way; this is warm, like how safe he feels around his mother or how lax he feels with his brother. Both frightened and yet fascinated, the prince brings his pet's face to him and kisses his cheek. The entire time of the exchange, he never lets him go.


	6. His Reach

Red like the fiery sunsets of the west drapes the heavens, the earth, and everywhere in between with the approach of the king's birthday. The entirety of Crodinia is ablaze with the bold crimson color, acting as both a symbol of heart and power to its people and to its rulers. With soldiers and guards flooding the streets wherever the red flows, the prince can take his pet into the capital city without any fear of traveling without an entire escort.

The prince's brother insisted that he bring an escort with him into the capital prior to his leave, but the prince told him his pet would serve as enough protection. Under the justification that his pet's life was on the line if anything were to happen to him, he finally permitted the prince to take his pet with him. So, it was done.

Wherever the prince travels, young and teenage girls point at him and shy away in giggling fits and beet-red faces. The prince also flushes a bright red, wondering if perhaps he can hide his complexion in the banners floating all over the capital. He loosely explains to his pet that at sixteen years of age, he is considered to be old enough to marry as an official adult in Crodinia.

As they walk towards the middle of the city, festive music grows louder, and the soldiers grow in number. It is all the prince can do to hold onto his pet's chain and keep him close. One false slip and he can very well get the chain attached to his collar knocked out of his hand. The guards, the prince notices, eye him and his pet with nervous looks, eyes shifting, and bodies twitching.

They must be looking for the Shadow, the prince thinks and continues on his way. The soldiers of the crown have yet to recover after receiving news of the killings, now believing it wise to never get involved with the prince. While it would bother him under normal circumstances, the prince seldom has time to care; he spends far more energy focusing on his pet than conversing with the soldiers, and this way, he feels a sense of authority over them, even if it is under his brother's power.

Continuing through the capital, the prince's Altorienese pet witnesses the capital's glory in its fullest form. Towers of stone and humble but colorful buildings dot the streets, and throughout, there are statues and sculptures of gods believed to bring wealth, health, and prosperity. Exotic vendors pitching food, toys, and clothing entice passing city-dwellers with their finest displays, and every now and then, one can come across with the more exotic medicines of the east and strange creatures from as far as Arbren and the Otherlands. Though it is daytime, numerous torch lamps are lined out to provide some warmth and light during the darker and colder days. The streets are no longer packed with snow, as the midsummer days have driven any frost back further north; here in the central province, the people rejoice in preparing for the celebration of a fine summer and another reigning year of life for their king.

"The days that celebrate the king's birthday are known as the Red Summer," the prince explains. "Mathias' birthdays falls almost directly in the middle of summer, so throughout these days, we celebrate the gifts of the warmest months and the prospering health of the crown." He passes by a banner and reaches out to touch the fine red fabric and asks his pet to do the same.

"This is made of wool from the sheep in the west," he explains. "They are given a new design each year in the east, woven in the north, and dyed in the south. Then, they are brought here to the capital as a representation of the unity of the five provinces in Crodinia. The red represents heart and strength. If you've noticed, it is the color that the Sun King wears the most." He holds up the banner in front of his pet and angles it around his chest. "Only members of royalty can wear crimson red on their bodies, but I think you would wear it well."

His pet's eyes move to the fabric and stares at the color. It is not quite as rustic as blood but both soothing and unsettling as the setting sun. It is a bold color, nonetheless, and he thanks his master for thinking of him.

The prince smiles for his pet and takes his hand. "While non-royalty may not wear crimson, per say, anyone is allowed to accessorize with it to show their loyalty to the king." He points to some people window-shopping for stained glass ornaments, donning large red ribbons in their hats. "See? It can be something like that." He looks to his pet and stares, thinking of how best to dress his pet for the Red Summer.

"I have an idea, Leon: we'll look around the shops for something that suits you and me. Everyone is recommended to wear red for the king's birthday, so we should find something, too." He eagerly pulls his pet along with his hand in one and his chain in the other. For a few hours, they browse shop after shop searching for the perfect accessory, but none suit the Altorienese boy whose foreign appearance does not completely match traditional Crodinian fashion. They stop by bakeries in between searching, sampling different jams and breads and tasting sweet cakes filled with creams and fresh fruit. They watch performances and plays on the streets, listening to the jokes and shows of the actors and jesters. All throughout their trip, however, they do not settle on anything ideal. There are several ways to wear red, but the prince cannot find any singular object that properly represents his pet.

"Hats don't suit you," he sighs and exits the clothing store, dragging behind his pet's chain through the streets. "We've almost reached the end of this area. Leon, shall we head back?"

His pet bows. "Whatever you wish, Master."

The prince cannot help smiling. "Saying it like that leaves me indecisive, but I think we've done enough shopping for today. Mathias' birthday isn't for another four days. I'm sure we can find something until then."

As they settle on returning home, he explains one last key component of the Red Summer. "I've told you of the royal color, but I've not told you of the banners' design." He shows his pet to a banner and runs his hand down the length of the design, a cross woven with clover blossoms in a glimmering golden thread. "It is the Crodinian Cross, the emblem of our kingdom. The five points represent the locations of our provinces, and together, they are a single unit. It is a key part to our identity." He laughs airily. "Funny. I've never told you about it before because I've found it so normal to see it."

His pet looks to him. "Your brother wears one."

The prince smiles. "Yes, you're right. My brother wears the golden cross in his hair. It's a royal accessory only passed down to the king's wife, or in Mathias' case, his husband. The cross, itself, is fashioned out of oakroot for stability and boasts a pure gold coating for wealth. And the cross shape, as you know, stands for unity. Mathias inherited it from his father after his mother passed away, and when the right time came after the war, he proposed to my brother the same way his ancestors proposed to their queens. My brother seldom removes his cross." He stops and attempts to visualize his pet wearing such an accessory in his hair. "But…maybe it's not suited for everyone. Come, Leon."

They travel through back towards the castle walls, looking one last time at the vendors as they pass when they reach a tavern. Drinking taverns and inns are fairly popular in the capital with merchants and business representatives looking for a place to congregate and rest. Being that it is the Red Summer, the rate of alcohol consumption is higher than in the rest of the year, and even soldiers who are supposed to be watching the streets cannot resist a good round of drinks. Some of these said soldiers spot the prince with his familiar white hair and his pet with his golden chain around his neck. Laughing the soldiers point and mock the pair, their faces red and their minds clearly impaired.

"Look at that, men! Have you ever seen something so hilarious in yer life? The mutt has a leash!"

"Can't run away from us now, can he?" another laughs, and the rest join him in what is obviously a drunken fest. They are not in their right minds, the prince tells himself. Their judgment is not fully conscious. They are not thinking clearly. The prince knows this. He knows it well, but inside of him, he begins to burn with a festering rage. How dare these people mock him and his pet. He is their prince, brother to Lukas Bondevik, the Shadow and second-in-command to the Kingdom of Crodinia. Mathias Køhler, the Sun King and rightful king is his brother-in-law. Any logic and restraint passes over the prince's head as he marches over to the soldiers, dragging his pet behind.

"I am the prince of Crodinia," he claims with an unfaltering voice. "You have no right to mock my pet in that way. Doing so mocks me, and it mocks my brother and your king. Apologize at once." But instead of the apology he expects, the soldiers laugh his words off and continue to drink.

"Yer just a pretty little face, prince. An' no matter what you say, Altorienese trash will always be trash." To make a point, one of the soldiers takes the blunt end of his spear and prods at the Altorienese pet; however, with his impairment and Leon's quick reflexes, he never manages to strike him once, and before anyone knows it, the sound of chains rattles above the laughter.

"Leon!" the prince gasps, as he feels a sharp tug at his hand as his pet goes out of control and throws himself onto the soldier who tried to attack him. "Leon, stop!"

But his pet does not listen, instead tugging harder on his chain until it hurts for his master to hold on. The collar sinks into his neck until he can feel the wind and blood blocked of proper circulation. His throat gags for precious oxygen, and his eyes begin to bulge within their sockets, yet his stubborn nature persists. The entire time, the prince bites back tears as the metal digs into his fingers and sinks into his skin, bruising them and paining him.

"What's the matter, dog?" a soldier smirks as he sees the boy still immobilized. "That leash too heavy for ya?"

At that very moment, the prince cannot hang on any longer. His fingers slip from the chain and releases Leon on the soldiers. What unfolds can only be described as hectic. Without his masters' leash, the boy starts to attack the soldiers, moving around them and kicking them off their feet. With these soldiers not wearing heavy armor as their castle-stationed comrades, he easily finds vital points and delivers quick jabs to their gut, neck, and shin. In such a closed area with their breaths heavy with alcohol, the soldiers have a difficult time pinpointing the boy who moves like a snake, winding around them and tripping them on their own two feet. When the men are on the floor, he spits down at them and kicks one of them in his side.

"Don't insult my master again," he growls and rejoins the prince at his side. Immediately, his voice and eyes soften, and he looks at his master with genuine concern. "Master, are you alright? I'm sorry I did that. I couldn't let them stand by and insult you."

The prince's eyes are large and round. His face is ghostly pale as he sees the injured soldiers lying on the ground. Granted, none of them are direly wounded, but this may not go unnoticed if they are smart. They will take this matter up to the king and his brother in the hearings if they so choose, and given the circumstances, he has a sinking feeling that he might be seeing them again.

For now, however, he quickly takes his pet away, and they hurry back to the castle before the soldiers think of pursuing them. The entire way, he forgets of his pet's chain and holds him by his hand, his fingers still raw and sore from the events before.

"Leon…" He stops and pants, unused to this pacing and atmosphere. "Never do that again—if not for me, for you." With the soldiers and commoners thinning out, he throws himself onto his pet and holds him in a deep embrace. His heart wants to explode. By doing this here and now, both of them can get into serious trouble with his brother, yet he cannot think of his pet suffering a punishment worse than his previous one. "Please promise me, Leon. If my brother finds out, he will do terrible things to you. I don't want to see you like that anymore. We will not speak of this to anyone, understood?"

"…Yes, Master, I promise," his pet whispers into his ear, and returns his embrace. When the moment ends, his hands move to his master's fingers that are reddish purple from pulling at his chain. "I hurt you…Please forgive me."

The prince shakes his head. "No. I pulled you through the streets so much that before I realized it, my fingers were bruised." He brushes his pet's bangs aside and kisses his neck. "I am the one who was reckless. There is nothing to forgive." Staring at his pet's collar, he pulls it forward and tugs down at the thin fabric between the metal and his pet's flesh. The entire area around his throat is dark purple. Despite nearly choking himself, Leon still intended on preserving his master's dignity at the cost of his own life.

"Oh, Leon…" The prince chokes up and pulls his pet face to his chest. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" It is difficult to look past it all. No matter what his brother says, Leon feels human to him. Beneath his skin and bones lies a beating heart and further in, a soul. Property or not, he cannot shake off how his pet has slowly become a part of his life, and while he does not realize it presently, the impact is growing.

Moving away in case the knights see them, the prince brings his pet's hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles that are slightly bruised from striking out at the soldiers. Leon does the same, opening his master's palm and tenderly kissing the sores. The pain is not as apparent, and the prince is grateful to have chosen such an understanding pet. He leads Leon by his hand, and together they walk towards the castle without thinking of the commotion in the city. His mind has since moved on to thinking of how to decorate Leon for the Red Summer.

* * *

The prince and his pet approach the castle gates when one of the royal guards stops to tell him that his brother is waiting for him in the centermost courtyard. The prince's heart almost stops at the thought that perhaps the Shadow had somehow gotten wind of his pet's misconduct. However, he rationalizes and convinces himself that it cannot be possible. His brother has been in the castle the entire time, tending to the decorations and organizing events for his husband's birthday. The last thing he needs to be interrupted for is the news of a little scuffle down in the city. So, without further stalling, the prince takes his pet to the courtyard to meet with his brother.

As soon as he arrives there, he sees familiar faces: his brother, Mathias, and a few select advisors he has encountered in the hearings. But none of them are the ones who stand out to him the most, for beyond the men looking his way, he sees another face, one that is by far familiar but one that he has not seen for a long time.

Forgetting about his pet, the prince's grip loosens. His heart and eyes flood with emotion, and he stops, unable to control his body anymore, save for his trembling lips curving into a welcoming smile.

"Mother…"

Had one not recognized her, the person might have glanced over her altogether. Her frame is thin, sickly to some physicians, and her stature weak. The prince remembers his mother being pale, but never did he think she would boast a complexion paler than his own. She looks as white as a sheet and could easily blended in with the young winter's first snowfall. Her once light-blonde hair now drapes over her shoulders in fair, white cascades as though dressing like a Tabrinish bride.

The one thing that remains unchanged is her motherly aura. The very way in which she smiles at him triggers fond memories of his childhood, before the days of war and leaving his beloved home in the west behind. When she speaks, it sounds of the same glass-like bells: incomparably beautiful and yet so fragile.

"My sweet Emil, it's been so long. Please come here and let me touch you."

"Yes, Mother…" he speaks with a quivering voice as he approaches her as composed as he can. There are others here besides his brother and Mathias, and he knows he cannot let his childish nature take hold of his emotions right now. When he reaches her, her thin, spidery fingers reach out and touch his face. Her hands are cold and frail, but it is still the same sensation he has felt in the past. As she trails her fingers over his skin, his eyes shut, enhancing his mother's touch. It is all real. His mother is really in front of him after all these years. It is not a dream anymore.

He wishes the moment could last forever. He allows his mother to examine every inch of him, feeling his hair, measuring his shoulders, comparing heights, holdings his hands; no amount of his exposed body goes unexamined by her. The prince starts to find it odd. He remembers his mother always holding him, but this is unlike her usual hugs or kisses. It is as if she is studying him. Granted, when she at last removes herself from him, his eyes wander to her face, and he starts at what he sees.

Where two pale lavender eyes should be instead lie clouded glass orbs staring blankly at him. He was so overwhelmed before that he did not notice it earlier. It pains him to see her this way, forever staring into darkness. It is no wonder why she wanted to study him so much. She cannot see him.

"Mother…you're…" He chokes. He cannot finish speaking. It hurts that she cannot witness how much he has grown after all these years. Had he known the last time she would gaze upon his face was eight years ago, he might have made a stronger attempt to see her before her sight left her.

His crushing thoughts hardly come through as he feels his brother place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "Emil, please understand. Mother has been fighting her illness for a long time. We've not known of this because she didn't want us to worry for her. She may have lost her sight, but she managed to preserve her life. We should be grateful that she hasn't lost anything else."

The prince dryly swallows and agrees. "Yes. Of course. I understand. Mother, I'm so glad you're here. You have no idea…I was so happy when I heard you were coming here. There are so many things to tell you."

His heart leaps when she smiles for him. Even after losing her sight, her love is unchanged. "I'm sure everything you have to say will do nothing more than please me, Emil. It's so wonderful to hear your voice. Both of you have grown up so much."

Both her sons exchange light smiles as the moment is bittersweet. Finally, they are reunited if not entirely, but such moments are precious, few, and far in between. They hope to make the best of it this Red Summer and cherish it while it lasts.

"I haven't properly been introduced to your husband yet, Lukas," their mother brings up. "My assistants have been reading your letters to me, and all of them have found him so charming and refreshing."

She cannot see her son's expression, but Lukas' lips tug to the side as he turns back at Mathias who looks like he wants to burst with emotion. "Those qualities are…some of the many traits he possesses, Mother. Mathias, are you fine with her 'looking' at you?"

At the question, the king pops up from his place and hurries over in an excited state. "Of course, I'm fine, Lukas! I finally get to meet your mother, and you have to ask?"

" _Mathias…_ " Lukas hisses a warning at his husband to tell him to behave, but the king ignores his tone and takes ahold of his mother-in-law's hands.

"You've raised two wonderful sons, Mother. I can't thank you enough for bringing them into the world." He gingerly shakes her hands, and all the while, she laughs like glass wind chimes.

Wrinkling his nose, Lukas elbows his husband and mutters, "She's not  _your_ mother, Mathias. What do you think you're trying to do, kissing up to her like that?"

"We're married, Lukas," the king cheerfully reminds him.

"Oh, no, it's really alright," she chuckles. "I can already tell you're much stronger than my sons. It's so wonderful to have someone bring a little exuberance into my sons' lives. Lukas and Emil both inherited my husbands' stoic natures, you see, so I appreciate you being a part of their lives their fathers couldn't give."

On that note, the prince looks to his mother. "How is Father, by the way?"

"Well enough. I rarely hear his voice these days. It's embarrassing for him to see me like this, and even for my sons to witness how weak I am." She lets out a delicate sigh as if she will break with a single touch. "But we all agreed that this visit would be good for everyone." And everyone can agree.

It is not long after their exchange that the advisors beckon their king to consolidate on the events that will take place in the capital. With Mathias taking Lukas with him, the prince has his mother all to himself, and they tour the main castle together, catching up on the things that could not be written into parchment.

"Mathias and Lukas—they fight so much, Mother. Just a few days ago, they were engaging in swordplay all because Lukas didn't like the way Mathias was practicing with the younger knights."

"Oh? And who won?"

"Lukas did."

His mother laughs. "Imagine that! Your older brother besting someone like Mathias." The prince enjoys the way she casually addresses the Sun King by his first name as though they are old friends. Being connected to him by family, there is a definite sense of connection between her son's husband and herself. Having grown up most of his life without his mother, the prince can also understand why Mathias desires to cling to her so much.

"Emil, Mathias appears to be so wild and robust. I have to admit, when I heard your brother was marrying the king of Crodinia, I never could have imagined what sort of person Mathias must be to win his heart over. It is, I suppose, as they say: opposites do attract."

"I guess that explains the fighting," the prince nods. He pauses to guide her towards the stairs that lead to his favorite balcony. She will not be able to see it, but he hopes his words can paint a fair enough picture for her to visualize.

"And who is the one following behind us, Emil?" his mother suddenly asks when they complete their trek. "There are three sets of footsteps I hear. The chain is a dead giveaway, too. I may be blind, but I still have my hearing."

The prince faintly smiles. "You do, Mother, and you're right. I couldn't introduce him earlier, but his name is Leon. He's…well, you can say he's Lukas' birthday present to me."

His mother appears confused, as she cannot grasp how a person can be considered a gift of property if at all. It is also understandable since the last letter he ever sent to her was before his birthday.

"He's Altorienese," he tells her, and he thinks that all he needs to say. However, his mother thinks differently and requests that she examine him with her own hands. The prince is initially reluctant to show him to her, but after seeing how harmless the exchange will be, he instructs Leon to move forward.

Out of everyone, Leon is the one she examines the longest. Not once does she stop to make a comment or leave his face, feeling every lock of hair and skin with her fingers. The prince watches the exchange, fascinated by how his pet takes this. Not once has he ever let anyone in the kingdom besides him touch him like this—save for the time his brother dragged him away from the dead guards and threw him at his feet. This, however, is a unique kind of exchange. Leon is just as fascinated by the whole event, his eyes wider than ever and constantly following her movements. When she leaves him, it is as though he awakes from a dream, snapping out of an alternate reality and still dazed from the memories of another world.

As the prince's mother speaks, her voice is soft and sincere. "Leon, is it?" She pauses and waits for Leon to respond with a soft nod, and though she cannot see the gesture, she waits long enough for him to finish. "You're a very special boy—no. Not a boy. A young man now, aren't you?" Again Leon nods, and the prince is speechless. How would his mother known his Altorienese pet is an adult and not a boy? As he ponders his questions in his head, his mother continues to speak to Leon with a smile that never wans. "The fact that you are here with my son is enough to convince me you're a good person. Please protect him well. And Emil, darling?"

The prince starts and responds. "Yes, Mother?"

"Please look after Leon. Treat him with the same kindness your brother and I have given you. He is more than a responsibility. I hope your brother gave you to him with the same intentions of showing that to you."

"Y-Yes…" the prince's voice fades. He is not sure if his mother is correct. When confronting his brother with the question of why he was given Leon, he was told that he needed to practice learning how to conduct himself with an air of responsibility. If he can raise Leon to be a presentable model, an Altorienese prisoner and commoner from his fallen empire's lost war, then he should have no problems being able to withhold his status as prince of Crodinia. He has never exactly given his brother's motives much thought other than what he was told up until now. Perhaps, he thinks, this entire time, he has been blinded by following his role's expectations instead of his own judgment. It has come to pass that he is treating Leon more of a person than a pet; the fact that he chose to hide Leon's resistance in the city is proof of that.

His mother returns his pet to him, and they continue on their way, talking about the little things like the sheep whose wool was plentiful this year and the large array of cheeses and creams the chefs have invented for dinner parties. Hand in hand, the prince is in the center of them, his mother on one end and his pet in the other. Surrounded by these two, he forgets if not for a short moment that he is in the capital bound by his royal allegiance to the crown; he is Emil Steilsson, a simple young man with simple aspirations of desiring nothing more than to live comfortably and happily with the people most precious to him. They are all here under one ceiling to celebrate this glorious Red Summer, and Emil cannot be any happier.

* * *

It is as though all the kingdom's worries dispel within the following days of the Red Summer. With the Sun King turning twenty-three, he is one of Crodinia's youngest kings in history and a refreshing breath of air to children and elders all alike. On the day of the king's birthday, a parade travels through the capital with golden chariots and red streams of fabric flowing through the streets like a river of blood. None take it as an ill omen, seeing it instead as a sign of good fortune to come as the heart of their kingdom beats with a strong core.

At the king's side, the Shadow remains sitting while his husband waves at the spectators. He has never been one to enjoy socializing or making a spectacle of himself in public. Though he understands how the common human mind works, he never particularly enjoyed mingling with strangers. He is fine hiding away while his husband gets the glory and attention. Today is Mathias' birthday, and he will have plenty of time to celebrate it with him personally tonight. For now, he sits and watches his husband bask himself in his kingdom's celebration, his uniform of red and his beaming smile shining brighter than the sun itself.

Behind the king's chariot is a carriage holding the prince, his mother, and his pet. Leon is constantly peering outside of the window at the spectators waving at the passing chariot. Occasionally he steals glances his master's way and sometimes to his mother, who can only enjoy the music and smells of savory meats and sweet breads. He studies the faces like a curious cat who looks outside of a window for the first time, completely speechless at the amounts of Crodinians lined up to see the king with their own eyes.

"Your letters tell the truth," the prince's mother smiles as she continues to listen. "They love Mathias as their king."

The prince smiles in return. "They loved his father, too, but for Mathias to be so young and open to new ideas probably made them feel more free." He sighs and looks out of the carriage. "But it might also be because he ended the war under his reign."

"Perhaps, but I wouldn't want to put my options on a single fact like that," his mother says. "I've heard of stories about Mathias and your brother. They've worked so hard to repair Crodinia and manage Altorien with the other kingdoms. It wasn't just winning the war, alone, that made Mathias the beloved king that he is today. Just listen to those people, Emil."

"Yes, Mother," he breathes. "It's wonderful."

The parade circles through the outer perimeter of the capital for the entire afternoon until it arrives back at the castle's front-most courtyard. This year, the king thought it best to open the gates to the commoners for banquets, games, and friendly tournaments. Everyone from any classes or any part of the kingdom can participate and explore the castle's outer perimeter for this one day, and while it breaks some restrictions down, the Shadow made sure there were no holes in royal security. Throughout the courtyard are men armored at the ready with sharp eyes and sharper weapons in the case trouble might arise. In contrast to the children laughing and men dining on food provided by the castle chefs, the knights who have sworn themselves in today cannot afford to participate in the festivities.

"It's only the ones who made an oath who are here guarding us today," the Shadow says as he tours the premises with his brother and pet. "The ones who wished to spend time with their loved ones were free to do so. It's the Red Summer, after all. They are allowed to do what their heart desires. Of course, the ones remaining undoubtedly have the most devotion to the crown, or they would not be watching over us, otherwise."

The prince takes fleeting glances at some of the soldiers stationed around the jousting section where a gathering of commoners piles over fences to watch the action. "Was it really the right thing to do, letting most of the guards leave today?"

"You'll come to understand that our subjects you see here are only human." The Shadow rarely makes contact with his brother under the public eye, never stroking his hair or so much as giving more than a few seconds' worth of eye contact. It is as if he treats his own brother like a ghost in these times, and while the prince has learned to predict this behavior, he has not grown used to it. "Peasants, knights, kings…the lot of them are flesh, blood, and bone, Emil. When you boil it down, they only think of themselves. It will not be up to me if they want to stay or not; that is their decision. The ones who chose to take the day off were not in the right mindset to serve our king. Does that make them any less capable than the ones we see here now? No. It just means at this moment, they would rather devote their time and energy into something they find more important to them.

"In the possible—not probable—event that there is an attack on a day such as this, the knights may have to fight. Had I forced all of the knights to maintain their positions today, when they would be pitted in a life or death situation, most of the knights would be fighting for their lives—not the king's. To me, a knight who will not put the life of my husband's before his own is not a knight fit to serve him on his birthday."

"I understand," the prince says. It is in rare conversations like these that remind him that his brother is married to the king. It is not a simple relationship or bond of friendship or foolish love. The marriage between royalty and childhood friends runs deeper than any political affiliations within Crodinia. He remembers the day he returned to the capital. After the war ended, the soldiers dissipated throughout the five provinces, and Mathias and Lukas returned home. In that war, the kingdom lost their ruler, but his son would be crowned in a short amount of time as the new king of Crodinia. It was not long after the coronation when Lukas told his brother that he and Mathias were engaged.

It had never been heard of for a king to take up a husband, not just in Crodinian history, but the rest of the kingdoms, as well. It was tradition that the king passes the golden cross down to the one he chose for a queen, yet Mathias chose differently. His father told him to present the golden cross to the one he would protect with his heart; it may have been influenced by the fact that Mathias' mother was not of royal birth but of peasantry blood. Like his father before him, Mathias chose to wed out of love and devotion, not of politics and maintaining status.

Lukas, too, was surprised when his childhood friend suddenly proposed to him without any hints. Always holding to the thought that his friend would marry someone from one of the neighboring provinces, he became set on keeping Mathias at the level of a good friend. Never did anyone else besides Mathias know whom he would present the golden cross to, but in the end, for his own reasons and his king's, Lukas accepted the golden cross. The two were wed the next spring when the first flowers broke from the late winter snows and bloomed all over the capital fields. By then, Mathias became a respected king in his own rights, and his and Lukas' marriage was blessed under oath of the gods and crown. Mathias became the Sun King, and Lukas had been granted the mysterious title of the Shadow.

Slowly, the prince began to notice the little signs between his brother and his new king. The bond they shared ran deeper than what he initially thought. In that war, they fought alongside one another, protecting each other above their own people as if they were the only ones who mattered. Lukas once mentioned he was only living for two people in that bloodbath: his brother and Mathias. Both brothers could except the same from Mathias, and they never bothered to ask him on the matter. It was simply known. And perhaps somewhere along the way, the prince began to drift from his brother. What was once his now belonged to Mathias, his king, in heart, body, and soul. First and foremost, Lukas weighed his concern on Mathias; whether following his role as second-in-command to his king or as his husband, the prince still does not know, but he cannot find it in himself to ask his brother. It is understandable that Mathias is the Sun King. He and Lukas go hand in hand together in ways that two people can only be perfectly compatible. There is a part of Lukas that the prince lost to Mathias but a part he can never hope to express towards his brother. In that way, he supposes it is only fitting that Lukas is more devoted to Mathias than he is his brother. The prince wonders if he will mature if he can accept that axiom.

Thinking of Mathias, his loud voice becomes prominent when the brothers near the wrestling arena. As a test of raw strength, grown men are stripped of their armor and wrestle one another to the ground until one yields. Lukas lets out a deeply rooted sigh when he sees his husband participating in something like this and quickens his pace towards the ring. As he nears the crowd, it is as if an invisible bubble surrounds a set perimeter; the spectators move away from him, never touching him as he easily makes his way towards the arena and snaps at his husband.

"Mathias Køhler, what in gods' names are you doing?"

The king grovels and loosens his hold on his opponent, a burly man roughly in his thirties. He is not as fit as Mathias, but what he lacks in muscle, he makes up for in size and weight. With the match technically still in session, it is difficult for Mathias to concentrate on two things at once.

"Oh, Lukas, yer just in time to see me win," he grimaces as he rolls over and transfers his opponent's weight over to the other side. "Didja come here to cheer me on?"

"No, idiot. I came here to tell you to put your armor back on. There are people all around us. You never know when someone might make an attack on you."

Mathias gains the upper hand and pins his opponent into the muddy grass. The spectators howl and shout as Lukas grinds his teeth together in frustration. "Lukas, yer too stiff. Ease up. It's my birthday. Everyone's having a grand time except you. And besides, Emil's not wearing any armor or anything."

Lukas huffs and gives a quick glance towards his brother who has his pet trailed behind him. "He doesn't need armor. He has that boy—and me. Don't make me a shield for you, too, you oaf. I'm not playing games here."

"He's not playing games here because they'll be doing a different kind of wrestling in bed!" someone jokes. Like the sword-fighting match, everyone bursts into laughter just as Mathias' opponent yields from a weak stomach. The prince notices how unaffected his brother is by all of this. He was never one to be insulted by the fact that he and Mathias are two married men. What happens behind the locked doors of the king's chambers stays between them. He has never found it to be anything to be ashamed of, so he sees no reason to start seeing it otherwise now. With a violent kick in Mathias' gut, Lukas growls at his husband one more time.

"You're done here, Mathias," he hisses. "Now get to your feet before I make you beg like a dog."

"On it, Lukas!" the king cheerfully springs up to his feet and brushes the dirt off of his tunic. "Didja see me win?"

"Clearly so," his husband humors him. "Get dressed. You might as well speak with some of the commoners while they're here." They move right on past the prince and his pet, making small talk and poking fun of one another like a young couple in their early stages of love. The prince hardens his grip on his pet's chain, thinking of how genuine their relationship is.

"Come, Leon," he says and gives the chain a light tug. "Let's leave them be. We can go see what everyone's doing at the archery stands."

The entire afternoon is spent touring the castle grounds and observing the various activities the attendants and servants have set up. Every once in a while, the prince watches some of the sporting matches or children's games. He never participates in any of them, giving the reasons that he is either not fit to participate in heavy athletics or because he is too old to play with children.

"My mother said you're not a boy but a young man," he remembers as they snack on sweet breads filled with creamed cheese. "I never asked you, Leon, but how old are you?"

His pet swallows his bread and looks to him. "I turned sixteen on the first," he casually tells him.

"The first?" the prince gasps. "But that means your birthday was but four days ago! Leon, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

The Altorienese teenager—now that the prince knows his age—shrugs and presses his lips to his bread. "You never asked, and it isn't important."

"But it is, Leon," the prince insists. "Sixteen is an important birthday. It's the age we consider you becoming an adult. So my mother was right after all…" He reaches out and strokes his pet's neck. "The least I can do is get you something. I would even get my puffin little gifts on his hatching anniversary. You deserve something, too."

"I couldn't," his pet refuses. "Master, you've done so much for me already. I'm just grateful to be alive."

"Leon, I insist," the prince presses. "I feel awful for not knowing sooner. Had I known, on that day we went into the city, I might've been able to find something for you."

His pet shakes his head. "Everything I need is right here, Master. There is nothing you need to do for me."

The prince cannot help chuckling. "You're so humble for someone who fights so well. But I think I can trust you still." He digs into his pocket and pulls out a small ring of keys. There are only three keys dangling on the iron chain, and one of them unlocks the collar Leon wears. "Leon, I can trust you, can't I?"

His pet's lips quiver. "Master…forgive me. I cannot answer that honestly." He looks at his knuckles that still have faint bruises from fighting the soldiers. "I hurt you that day. I can't forget that."

"No, Leon," the prince whispers. Inside, his chest swells at how much his pet cares for him. He does not mind this sort of attention. "You did nothing of the sort. You did what you thought was right to protect me." He kisses his cheek and takes hold of his collar. "Just promise you won't do anything impulsive. You can do that simple thing, can't you?"

As he waits for a reply, Leon takes his hands and examines his palms. As he thought, there are faint red lines in between the middle where the chain snagged on. The wounds have not yet recovered despite never drawing blood, serving as a reminder of his actions.

"I promise I won't hurt you again, Master," he says. "That is the promise I was sworn to keep when you took me in. I won't break it again."

The prince smiles. "As I thought you'd say." He unlocks his pet's collar and helps him remove the ring of metal and chain. They lay it down on the stone, and the prince pulls a single red ribbon from his belt. "Leon, my mother gave this to me. She said it was from Altorien. It's made from the finest silk. Here, touch it." He holds it out to his pet, but he withdraws.

"I can't. It's from your mother." He uses those words, yet it almost feels as though he is refraining from saying any more.

"Don't worry. I have a spare, Leon. She requested plenty for the Red Summer. This is one of many. And I still haven't given you anything red to wear after all this time."

Leon shamefully examines his clothes for any sign of the royal color, but there is none to be found. With a short sigh, he leans his neck forward for his master to tie him with.

"No, Leon, I'm not going to do that. You can't tie a collar with something as precious as this. It's not meant for imprisonment." He takes his pet's wrist and places it in his lap. "It's for decoration. Wearing this kind of red means heart and strength in our kingdom. And from what I've gathered in your home empire's, it stands for fortune and luck in Altorien, right?"

His pet gives a reluctant nod, and the prince continues to straighten the ribbon. "I've always though red would look nice on you. This is as close as you'll get to wearing it in this kingdom, Leon, so I hope you like my gift." He finishes tying it around his pet's wrist in a neat but sturdy bow. The ribbon is long enough for him to use it as a makeshift leash but not so lengthy that they are never too far apart.

"It's not too tight, is it?" the prince asks as he gives the ribbon a light tug.

"It doesn't feel like anything," he responds. "Thank you, Master."

His face beaming, the prince brings the ribbon around his pet's hand to his lips and kisses it. "You're more than welcome, Leon. You look lovely in red."

Leon cannot agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When writing this, I totally forgot Denmark's birthday was in June, not July, so you're going to have to pretend his birthday is on July 5th in this universe--even though in this universe, there is no such thing as June or July.


	7. His Veil

A sigh escapes Lukas' lungs as he sits on their bed and waits for Mathias to join him. Despite what is coming, he still leaves some of his sleepwear on, knowing how much his husband enjoys stripping it off of his body. The room smells of flowers and spice from their bath; after a long day of feasting and competing in games, the two smelled of dirt and cooking grease. Lukas always makes sure the king's chambers never smells of anything other than their scents, carefully instructing the most trusted maids to prepare incense and change the sheets each night. He considers their bed a sacred place where only he and Mathias can be together without anyone disturbing them, and it is here that he waits for the remaining minutes of the Red Summer to come to an end.

"It would be easier for me to get you a  _real_  birthday gift," he mutters as he sees his husband undressing. The candle lights are already dimmed to as far as they can go without them going blind while making love. A bottle of strongly aromatic ointment rests at the nightstand on Mathias' side; its highly potent properties of speargrass and limeroot mask any traces of sweat and seed when they get started.

"I have too many swords to display and more books than I have time to read," the king chuckles, stretching his rigid muscles after a day's worth of wrestling and sneaking a sword fight or two. "Besides, this way, you get something in return, too."

Lukas sneers and beckons him to lie down so he might massage him, scolding him for his brashness. "You're a king, not a rowdy knight, Mathias. If you're going to rule the people, you have to be fit to rule yourself. You don't even take care of your body. How do you expect me to believe you can run the kingdom without my help?"

Mathias looks to him with a smile glowing in the soft flames. "Maybe that's why I always need you by my side, Lukas."

Petty words, Lukas wants to think, but he secretly feels flattered that his king needs him in more ways than one. He stops massaging his husband's arms and kisses his neck and nibbles his ear. By now he knows where to touch to make his husband do certain things, and Mathias is all the more knowledgeable. Lukas can feel the cool summer breeze rush on his skin when his husband strips his garments off and runs his hands down his torso to his waist. Triggered by adapted physiological desires, he can feel himself growing harder at the thought of Mathias' hands moving lower down his groin. He sinks into the mattress, weakened by the spinning sensations of sharp smells and flickering lights. Suddenly he forgets about the cool breeze and experiences a rush of fire flooding inside him from the inside out. Mathias is starting.

Lukas bled on their wedding night. The sensation at the time was completely unfamiliar to him. He could not consult anyone on how to pleasure his husband. He could not rely solely on instinct alone. The exchange was awkward and clumsy at best. Mathias had no concept of what to do, yet he made a shaky attempt at taking charge with his young husband spread out for him in the darkness. They saw each other naked several times before when dressing and bathing together as children, but it was the first time since they exposed themselves in such a manner that they could whole-heartedly accept each other's nakedness. It was never a concern in the past: Lukas knew it was only human for them to appear that way without clothes; Mathias never minded since they were friends.

As lovers—husbands now—it was different. They did not need to make such an exchange. Neither could bear children. For them to consummate would only be out of their own lust for each other. Lukas was afraid of it. It made him feel unclean, tainted. It should have been regarded as a privilege to be handled this way by a king, one that was in no way disregarded by the gods or his people, yet knowing he was married was still foreign and new to him. Mathias loved him. He put Lukas' life before his own selflessly many times before without a second's thought. That such a relationship and regard could lead up to this night was something Lukas could not wrap his thoughts around. It felt too surreal, perhaps perfect. Perfection was not something he thought could exist between him and Mathias—not as friends, at the very least.

Lying on a nightstand by their large bed on that night was the golden cross. Lukas accepted it, placing it on his lips during their wedding ceremony and watching Mathias press his lips to it in return. He did not accept the cross for security or for power, he realized. He thought of Mathias as something more; it was just that before, his uncertainty held him back. He loved Mathias.

With his breath held, he encouraged his new husband with his body. He thought of how one might entice his lover and performed such speculations on Mathias. By the time he managed to regain his senses again, the sun was at high noon, the covers reeked of sweat and semen, and his hips were never sorer.

* * *

He can hear them from down the hall. Here on the third floor where the servants and maids are excused for bed, the prince is wide-awake to the sounds coming from his brother's chambers. He can only be grateful his mother is sleeping on the second floor. This is not the first time he has heard them making love. As the months progressed in their marriage, the sounds became more pronounced and vocal. Lukas learned how to make himself comfortable, and Mathias learned how to pleasure them both. The noises they make almost sound animalistic, as if not from the people he has grown up with his entire life. They are sounds made only for each other. Hearing them makes the prince feel as though he is intruding in their love life.

Wrapping himself into a ball, the prince tosses and turns in his bed, hoping either the cool summer breeze or the snowflake patterns of his lamp will lull him to sleep. However, after several minutes, he concludes that he cannot find rest. Even after Lukas and Mathias' voices die down, he still feels restless in bed. He hopes he can find something in his room to distract himself from the lasting sounds echoing in his memory, but his mind constantly goes back to the conjured images of what Mathias might be doing to his brother.

At sixteen, the prince knows what it means to be married and consummate. Having been visited by some of the more passionate kings in his lifetime, he has knowledge of what goes on behind closed doors and flailed bed sheets. Perhaps it is the sheer curiosity that grabs him or the fact that he has never seen it for himself, but the prince sometimes finds himself wishing he could experience what his brother is feeling just once in his life.

He vividly remembers the day after his brother's wedding. Lukas refused to come out of his chambers after complaining about aches in unexpected places. He did not want anyone to see him, and the only one who could freely move in and out of the chambers was Mathias, himself. The prince was twelve at the time, barely able to grasp what sexual intercourse was, let alone what it felt like. Mathias could only tell him that Lukas was tired and needed plenty of sleep. He also needed to hide his new brother-in-law from the fact that on their first attempt at making love, the bed sheets became bloodied from inexperience. It never happened again, after that, and from then on, Lukas left the chambers with his husband leading him out.

It must have been painful, he thinks, being unable to even walk after going through that. Sex is supposed to be an act of love. He wonders if it is because Lukas and Mathias are both men, but he was always told that it was an act between two lovers for only the strongest of intentions. Pleasurable or not, it was supposed to only be saved for those who loved one another. Lukas was able to hold back the pain and allow Mathias to be inside of him. The prince should be able to do that, too, when he finds the right person, yet he feels unpredictably and frustratingly impatient. It does not feel fair that his brother should be able to have someone love him like that, not while he feels discarded and neglected as his brother assimilates his roles.

A sound suddenly interrupts his chain of thoughts. Leon stirs from his bed and causes the frame to creak under his weight. The prince quietly moves back to his pet's side and watches him turn over. No further movements follow, and the prince thinks he must have just adjusted his position in his sleep; nevertheless, he whispers out to him from his post.

"Leon…? Leon, are you awake?"

Nothing happens for a period of time. The prince gives in and proceeds to rest his head when he hears a rustling noise from his pet's covers.

"Master?" comes a whisper. "Did you call for me?"

His heart making a small leap, the prince crawls to the edge of his bed with a faint smile. "Yes, I did. I was wondering if you were awake."

"I am," his pet quietly answers. From the soft glow of his lamp, the prince can see Leon's golden eyes shining at him. What he once found to be hypnotic and exotic now feels special to him. Very rarely does Leon look anyone directly in the eye, and the prince considers it more of a privilege than poor practice of good manners. His breathing easing up, the prince holds his hand out to stroke his pet. Leon silently moves his head over to his hand and lets his master touch his hair.

"Are you not able to sleep?" Leon asks unexpectedly. He is different than any puffin or dog the prince has seen. Where an animal might only try to get certain reactions out of its master, Leon can sense when something ails the prince. He listens and reflects, tries to reason and make things better so as long as he does not infringe. It makes the prince trust his pet even more than he would any beast, and he pours his troubled thoughts onto him.

"You heard them, didn't you?" he asks with unfocused eyes. His mind still echoes with the pleasurable sounds of his brother crying out for his husband. When his pet nods, he makes certain he knows why they were made, boldly asking him.

"Pleasure" is what his pet says and nothing more. The prince bites his lips and sits up. He moves from his bed and lies with Leon, stroking his cheek and staring into his eyes.

"Leon, have you ever loved someone before we met?" he asks and pauses. "I've taught you the word. We've read about it countless times in our studies and stories."

His pet's eyes are lazily open when his fingers glide across his jawline. By now the prince knows where he enjoys being touched. Seeing his pet so relaxed like this puts the prince at ease, too.

"Someone," he mutters as he leans his head against the prince's thigh. "Once."

Curious, the prince does not hesitate to ask. "Who?"

"A woman," he begins.

The prince first guesses that Leon must mean his mother, but he has never brought up any information about his mother, only that of his father. He wonders if Leon even knows who his mother is, since he does not even refer to the person as his mother but rather "a woman."

"What was she like, Leon?"

"Like a mother," he says. "But not my real one. She was never around, the real one." The prince stifles a gasp when he feels his pet's fist tighten on his gown. "But I can understand why she wouldn't want to be around me. I'm…" He stops himself. "Forgive me, Master. I didn't mean to pour my emotions onto you."

"No, it's fine," the prince insists, offering his pet comfort in the form of light kisses. "If there's something troubling you, it's my responsibility to know what that is. I want to help you, Leon. You're free to tell me anything. After all, we're fr—" He immediately cuts his voice off. "Oh…Now it's my turn to get emotional. I'm sorry, Leon." Unable to speak, he brings his pet's head to his chest and buries his nose into his sharp-scented hair. "…Leon?" he speaks with a muffled voice in his pet's hair.

"Yes, Master?"

"I love you."

As he absorbs his words, Leon brings his hands over the prince's neck and wraps his fingers around the back like a web. He angles his head upwards and nuzzles his cheek against his master's. In his ear, he utters five words that feeds a lingering thought and makes him hunger for more. The prince never realized how insatiable he felt up until this point, and he is more than happy to accept what Leon has to offer him.

"I love you, too, Master."

* * *

On the last full day of her visit, the prince snacks on cream-filled cakes and rich licorice with his mother and brother. Leon is also there, idling by the firevines and eating biscuits; he has never been fond of licorice and prefers to eat sweeter things.

"I've longed to travel to Thursaunia in my youth," the brothers' mother smiles in a far-off way as she twirls her dessert fork in her fingers. "I've heard from the cooks that the cakes are even sweeter than the ones we eat now, but I'm can't imagine you would be too fond of that."

The prince and brother exchange sheepish looks, as neither of them has been overly enthusiastic of sweets. While they indulge in them from time to time, both have a preference of rich-tasting or bitter foods.

"Sweet or not, I'd still like to try them when we get there," the prince tells his mother. "I'll write to you about them. And who knows? Maybe we can try them together one day."

"Oh…" His mother breathes with a labored sigh and daintily smiles at her younger son. "I'd love that, Emil. I just wish my strength were enough to last another trip."

Like a string becoming undone, the prince's expression falls with concern. He has known all this time of his mother's frail health, but the seriousness of her state never fully registered to his knowledge. She kept things from him, even from Lukas. Neither brother knew she went blind, and they can only imagine how dire her situation is. Just hearing this makes the prince's heart swell with guilt. He never meant for his mother to strain herself. He only wanted to see her again after so long.

"Mother, if that's the case, then I'll visit you. I promise, when I return, I'll make a trip to my home. I've been meaning to see it, and I've yet to see Father. Wouldn't that be nice?" He turns to his brother for support. "Brother, what do you think?"

Their mother cannot see, but the prince can clearly see the forced smile his brother makes as he looks upon his mother's increasingly decrepit condition. Her once airy and radiant beauty has long since faded like the golden silk in her hair; her voice barely rises above a quiet laugh. Already, the fact that she lost her sight is a prominent indicator, and hearing what his brother has to say makes the prince all the more weary.

"It's a good idea, little brother. I'll be sure to ask Mathias about it, too. He hasn't seen our home in the east. I suppose I haven't been home in some time, myself."

The prince struggles to swallow a forkful of cake. Where the taste should be filled with almond paste instead tastes like a bland piece of sponge. It is a part of accepting life, yet seeing the realization come to life before his very eyes sinks slowly into him just as his cake does. He stops eating and does not dare bring up the topic of travelling anymore, instead listening to his brother move on to social activities in the capital and qualms of Mathias' well-being.

With Lukas and Emil's mother leaving in the morning, they spend the entire day with her until she needs to go to bed. Excusing herself to retire for the night, the brothers are left to themselves to wander back to their personal chambers. Mathias has been kept busy the entire day with the clean up and conclusion of the Red Summer, leaving Lukas and Emil free to spend as much time with his mother as they could.

"Something troubles you, little brother," Lukas notices as they walk together. "You can't hide it from me."

Nothing escapes the prince's brother. Having always been watching him since birth, he does not even need to be told when something lingers in his mind. It is only now that the prince can share his feelings, as their mother in nowhere in sight.

"How did you do it?"

The Shadow blinks.

"You were so calm when speaking with her. She didn't worry through you." The prince bites on his lower lip. "I couldn't say anything anymore, Lukas. I was afraid she would know."

His hard gaze dissolving, Lukas embraces him and lets out a burdened sigh. "It's not easy, Emil. From the moment I saw her, I knew something was wrong. It's a matter a adjusting to her hearing. Betraying certain emotions can devastate someone, and in this case, I had to do my best to conceal that."

The prince swallows.

"Lukas…? Is Mother going to die?"

"Oh, Emil…" A tired and long look washes over his face. He brushes a loose strand of hair away from his brother's eyes and runs his palm over his forehead. "We all are. It's a part of life."

"…But Mother's time will be coming soon, won't it?" He suppresses a choking noise rising in his throat. "Are we able to keep our promise? We'll visit her again, won't we?"

His brother kisses him and gently whispers into his ear. "Yes, little brother. We will. I'll talk with Mathias. But for now," he presses his lips to his hair, "keep your spirits up. You need to get plenty of rest. As soon as we see Mother off, we leave for Thursaunia."

"Yes," the prince nods.

"That's my little brother," Lukas lightly smiles and ruffles his hair. "You have everything packed, correct?"

"Yes," he repeats.

"Then all is well. I'll leave you to the rest of the night. Try to go to sleep early."

"Mm…" The prince's voice falters for a moment. "Oh. Brother?"

"Yes?" he softly responds.

The prince's feet shuffle in place as he attempts to compose himself. Many times in the past has he asked his brother for favors, yet this is one he is not too sure of; while his brother may be willing to comply, the prince wonders how far he can take his privileges at sixteen years of age. Right before telling his brother, he scans him for his mood. Never one to betray his emotions so easily, Lukas stands sentient and waiting for his words. The prince gives in, deciding it is not to keep his brother lingering.

"I want to bring Leon with us."

Lukas' reaction is not one the prince expected. Instead of getting angry or forbidding it completely, he lightly replies, "Very well."

Caught by surprise, the prince's lavender eyes widen. His brother has never been so open to such a proposal before; in the past, he became wary of Leon learning Crodinian so quickly and even sleeping in a bed of his own, but this, for Lukas to easily consent to the Altorienese pet tagging along, comes as a shock.

Still incredulous, the prince's eyes remain large. "Truly?" he breathes at last. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" his brother dully replies as if being told the prince woke up a minute later than normal. "You've told me that your pet has been remarkably well-behaved, have you not? He listens to you, doesn't act out of line, and is clearly branded with your mark. So as long as everyone knows he belongs to you, and as long as you're willing to take responsibility for him, then it shouldn't be a concern." He pauses. "Unless, you  _want_ me to be concerned, little brother."

"No," the prince backs down. "There's no need. I was just…" He drops his doubts. "Never mind. Thank you, brother." He bows his head as Lukas runs his fingers through his hair and kisses him.

"Think nothing of it, Emil. If it makes you happy, then I'll be more than willing to let you bring him along."

"Y-Yes." His heart easing with relief and joy, the prince cannot be more excited to return to his chambers and tell his pet the good news.

As soon as the rest of the castle dies down to slumber, the prince brings his pet to the bathhouse and announces the news. The servants have all retired for the night, and Lukas and Mathias have long since gone to bed. With the rest of the castle in lulled silence, the prince and his pet have be entire bathhouse to themselves again.

"Leon, isn't it wonderful?" the prince whispers as he pours oils onto his pet's hair. "We'll be able to see so many things. The mountains in Thursaunia are thick and green with rivers that run through the valleys. I've been told it looks like the place where my brother was born but warmer, and we'll be able to see the famous stone architecture and castles built for the royal families."

His pet submerges his entire head inside the scented waters, washing off the soaps and whatever dirt clung to his hair from the day's routine. When he arises, his bangs drip over his eyes with excess water. The prince holds back a smile as he thinks Leon looks like one of his ponies back in the west. He, too, rinses himself and proceeds to wash Leon's skin with a bar of soap. As they will be on the roads the entire day tomorrow, he wants his pet to be as presentable as possible until they will be able to bathe again. They will not be able to stay in a castle for another week or more depending on the traveling conditions, so they need to savor this bath as much as they can.

"Master, will we be seeing Queen Elizabeta when we get there?" Leon asks as he lets him wash his neck.

"Elizabeta? Yes, I suppose we will if her husband permits her to travel." He smiles and sighs. "Roderich doesn't really like to travel very much, and the capital is far from where we're going. If we'll see her, I don't think Roderich would be accompanying her."

Leon raises an eyebrow. "So the queen will be traveling alone?"

The prince lightly laughs. "Don't be alarmed. Elizabeta's a wild queen. She can handle herself. You remember her, don't you?"

His pet almost hangs his head in shame as if bringing up a cruel prank he did many years ago. "Yes. I struck her away from you. And because of that, you were punished."

"No." The prince stops and wraps his arms around Leon's chest. Being stripped of his clothes, he can feel Leon's firm chest muscles and broadness of his shoulders. When he first bathed him, he was stunned at how thin he was; now, Leon has become a fine young man with his health returning to his once atrophic body. It almost embarrasses the prince at how even when he is not as well-fed, Leon appears to be more athletic than him.

"Leon, the incident involving Elizabeta and Gilbert was my fault. I should have been more responsible for you that day. I should have told you not to do that and punished you myself. I wasn't a good master to you that day."

His pet strokes his hands. "I think you're a good master. I'm happy being here."

Touched, the prince cannot help kissing his pet's wet hair and smiling. "Thank you for thinking that way, Leon. I'm grateful." He continues to bathe him. "But can you tell me something? Why did you resist Elizabeta and Gilbert that day?"

Leon thinks on it for a moment, his eyes searching. In well-versed Crodinian, he tells his master, "Because I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me?" the prince echoes. At the time, he did not think Elizabeta and Gilbert were doing anything that could have threatened him; they were simply being who they were.

Uncomfortably, Leon turns to look at his master, a discerning expression in his golden eyes. "I didn't like the way the queen touched you, Master. You looked like you didn't like it, and I didn't want you to look so uncomfortable."

"Leon…I'm touched, but I hope it doesn't come to that again. I've taught you how to behave. You will know how to react next time, right?"

"Yes," he nods. "I will."

The prince nearly drops the conversation when he remembers a small detail left out from Leon's answer.

"You never told me why you resisted Gilbert."

To this, Leon's eyes became as hard as stone. His irises bear a light, that same light he had when mentioning his past life. It does not so much as startle the prince as it does fascinate him, yet all the same, he cannot bring himself to look away.

"I'm only human, Master." It is all he says and all he needs to say.

* * *

"It's a shame my visit was so short." The prince's mother sighs along the summer breeze that drifts through her web-like hair. With how she keeps it trailing in cascades like that makes her appear to be a ghost walking in the flesh. Her pale skin glows almost white against the sunlight, and beneath her thin membrane, he can see little systems of veins underneath. "Emil, I wish I could stay with you and Lukas."

The prince takes this as an unconscious trail of thinking and springs to the call. "Then why don't you stay here in the capital, Mother?" he asks. "We've got plenty of physicians, and herbs and medicine can be brought here more easily than in the west. We can see each other every day when we return."

His mother exchanges a sad smile with his hopeless one, and she takes his hand. Like every other time, her warm mother's touch counters that of her true icy fingers. "Emil, I'd love to, but your father needs me. The west is my home, and as much as I love the capital, I love the west and my people there more."

The prince's voice cracks. "S-So, you would sacrifice your health and time with us over the west? And Father? You told me you rarely see him."

"But, Emil, I love him, and I love my home. It is there that I want to spend the rest of my days." It could be that it is motherly instinct, for even without her sight, she reaches out to her son and kisses him. "Dear, dear Emil, that doesn't mean I love you and Lukas any less. This is…This is something that you might not understand just yet."

"I can!" the prince suddenly cries, pained by the convulsing fire in his gut. "Mother, if it's me or Lukas…or anyone, just tell me!"

With a lingering smile, his mother holds him close and gently shushes him as she would do when he was an infant. "Emil, darling, I know you wouldn't understand, but it's not you or your brother. When the time comes that…" Her voice trails off. "I'll tell you this: when you fall in love, you'll understand."

"But I know what love is, Mother." He feels terrible for speaking to her this way, but he cannot help it. Knowing that she is his mother makes him feel childish and weak, even when he thinks himself to be so much more mature than this. "I love you, and I love Lukas. Both your sons are here, Mother. You would sacrifice us and your health to leave us? It's not fair—!"

"Emil!"

The prince flinches when his mother snaps at him. All this time, her voice was so dainty and quiet; he even fears that raising her voice might have done something to her lungs and feels more ashamed than ever.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he shakily whispers. "I'm sorry." He starts when her finger brushes his cheek and fixes his hair.

"Emil, darling, it's alright," she coos. "Forgive me. You and Lukas, my children, are the world to me. I can't do anything for you any longer." She lets out a heavy sigh and stifles a cough. From within her bony chest, she holds herself back from making any loud noises, as if worried another loud sound will shatter her son's spirit. "This place is lovely, and I would love to spend the rest of my days here with you, but—"

There is always a "but," the prince bitterly thinks, biting his tongue to refrain from speaking.

"—the walls here feel so foreign to me. It feels like a burden just as much as I feel like one to you. I don't want to weigh you down with worries if I stay here. You are a prince, and Lukas—sweet Lukas, he is the second-in-command to all of Crodinia. Both of you make me so proud, Emil." She holds his hands with trembling strength. "So don't make me so important in your lives. You can take care of yourselves from here. You're both adults, and the people you know and will know will be able to watch over you. I can't do any more for you, Emil."

"Mother…" His eyes are hot. Embarrassment washes over him in heated waves, and while his mother cannot see him, he has to hold his breath in case she hears him choking. He will not cry in front of her, not after believing her son is strong enough to look after himself. "Even if you think that way, you'll always be someone important to me. I'm glad to have you as my mother."

"Oh, Emil…" his mother smiles. "Thank you. For someone who can no longer see her own son, it means a lot to me to hear you say that."

"Of course," is all he can say before he needs to silence himself. He leads her back to the carriage where everyone else is waiting for their departure; along with the servants are Lukas, Mathias, and Leon to meet them.

"Are you ready to go, Mother?" the king asks his mother-in-law as she is lead to the carriage by her sons.

"As ready as I can be," she smiles at him and thanks her sons one last time. "Mathias, I'm sure you know of this already, but Lukas is my son as much as he is your husband. Look out for him and ensure he doesn't lose himself so often."

From the corner of his eye, the prince catches his brother making a miniscule crack of a frown.

"You have my word," Mathias nods. "Before I'm a king to him, I'm his husband. You won't have anything to worry about. The same goes with Emil. I will take care of them both."

She laughs her crystal-bell laugh. "I have no doubt of that," she smiles like the winter sun. "Then I have said all that I need to say. There is nothing more for me to worry about."

Lukas bows to her though she cannot see. "Take care, Mother. Have a safe trip and say hello to Father for us."

"Goodbye, Mother," the prince shortly says, his head straining to hold itself in place. With the carriage loaded and the horses and men ready, the party departs for the trip back to the western province. The prince watches as the figure of his mother disappears at first from the window and then out of sight, a sense of longing still stuck with him like a wandering ghost.

Mathias, seeing how tepid his brother-in-law is with the departure, pats him on his shoulder and attempts to cheer him up. "Hey, don't make such a long face, Emil. Once you get back you can visit your mother any time."

The prince looks at him. "Really? You'll be fine with that, Mathias?"

"Of course!" the king assures him with another pat. "It's your mother, after all! What, didja think I was gonna turn ya down?"

"No," he shakes his head. "Thank you, Mathias."

"Don't mention it. Just make sure you two get back in one piece for yer trip, alright?"

"We will," the prince nods. He watches as the king leaves him and goes to his husband who is still staring off at the road down to the capital. His mother will be heading in the westward direction while he and his brother are headed for the south. By the time they exit the capital, their mother will be far out onto the kingdom roads nearing the western province. His eyes looks lost for a time, and it is as though he cannot hear or see anyone else around him, not even his husband who sneaks up from behind and kisses his blonde locks.

Annoyed, Lukas purses his lips and elbows him in his gut, just enough that Mathias loosens his grip. Such an event is so common between the two that the prince leaves them be and goes to retrieve his pet.

"You miss her already, Lukas?" the king quietly asks as his husband continues to stare off in the same direction.

"You're one to talk," the Shadow scoffs. "You miss her, too, don't you?"

"Why wouldn't I? She's amazing, raising you two all by herself like that."

"No, you're wrong about that," he dully replies, though he is actually masking his concern. "She's always been sickly. Even before the war and before moving to the capital, she's rarely had time for us—time for me." It is then that he breaks away from Mathias and looks for his brother who has long since gone off. "She's always loved Emil more. Even his father…" Again, he scoffs and flicks his bangs away from his right eye, but they come sweeping down in stubborn trails. "Whatever the case, it was enough that she didn't hesitate to leave after all these years."

Mathias is undeterred. "But she still loves you, and you still miss her, Lukas. That's not going to change."

The Shadow releases a heavy sigh. "No, it's not. As much as it annoys me, you're right about that." He stops and scans the area again. This time, he sees his brother dragging his pet along with a red ribbon tied to the Altorienese teen's wrist. His eyebrows lower at the color and style. The ribbon was one of many that his mother gave them as gifts for the Red Summer. To see common Altorienese scum irritates him, but if that is what his brother wants, then it will be him to deal with the consequences of accessorizing him that way.

Though it is underlying, he still projects it to his husband. "Look at that. You see the ribbon on him, Mathias?"

"Who, on Leon?" the king looks in his direction. "What about it?"

Of course he would call him by his name, Lukas thinks and picks at his nails. They are neatly trimmed and cleaned, but he always makes sure they are a little sharp at all times. "It's one of the ribbons Mother gave us, the same kind that you wore on your birthday."

"Oh." Lukas does not need to know that he is not thinking about it anymore; Mathias simply does not have any more input on the matter.

"You're not bothered by it?" he asks as calmly as he can. "It's a symbol of the Red Summer."

"And it's a lovely time of the year," Mathias adds.

Clicking his tongue, Lukas throws a dagger of a look his husband's way. "Before, my brother chained him. It was clear that the Altorienese was a pet. No matter how you look at it, a chain is stronger than a mere ribbon. It weighs and strangles, it makes you remember  _what_  you are.

"But with who I'm talking to, I can't expect you to know that from the top of your head, can I, Mathias?"

Mathias regards Lukas' words and continues to observe the interactions between Emil and Leon. Even when bidding farewell to his mother, his spirits appear to still be in tact. Wherever he goes, it is as though a burdening weight lifted off of his shoulders so as long as his pet is around. He cannot remember another time when Emil smiled so often and so gently before.

"If you ask me, Emil looks happy."

Lukas throws his head back. "He does, doesn't he?" He can acknowledge that much, but that is not the point he was trying to get across. "And what will the others think of him when he brings such a primed pet without so much as a ribbon for a leash into their kingdom?"

Mathias does not know how to answer that—or perhaps, he cannot. He has seen what has happened to the Altorienese during and after the war. It was not just the empire that experienced tragedy; the other kingdoms shunned, tormented, and purged the Altorienese citizens. It could have been considered genocide. Seeing his once-stoic brother-in-law so enthralled and entertained with his pet made him forget of those times if not for a short-lived moment. He may not be as observant as his husband, but he knows enough now of why Lukas agreed to let Emil take his pet across the borders. Even for the Shadow, this is exceptionally harsh of him.

His hands clasped together, Lukas goes over to his brother and asks him if he is prepared. The rest of their conversation carries on as casually as asking about the weather. Not once does he betray any hints of his true intentions, why he wanted his brother to come with him on this trip, why he would even allow someone like Leon to ride with them in their royal carriage.

However, the Sun King also supposes that in his cruelty, never more does the Shadow appear so beautiful. He cannot be sure if this is a sort of twisted attraction, but he can find it in himself to forgive his husband should he need to. When bringing Emil into it, even, he cannot bring himself to divulge this revelation. It is such a fascination that he does not intervene. Where there is such cruelty, there is beauty. Where there is such beauty, there is cruelty.


	8. His Path

From the carriage, the prince can see Lukas and Mathias bidding their final farewells. He has never known the king to ever express any extreme forms of affection to his husband in public, but the sounds during the night do not lie. He can see how Mathias restrains himself to keep his image up. His smile breaks at the corners of his mouth like a thin, crumbling wafer, and all the while, Lukas is undeterred. The prince cannot hear their conversation, though judging from the expression on the king's face, he knows his brother is telling him something snarky, perhaps reminding him not to get into too many swordfights while he is away.

In a form of affection, Mathias at last rests a hand on Lukas' shoulder and sends him off with his last words. The conversation over, Lukas heads in the direction of the carriage where the guards are already positioned and prepared for the journey ahead.

"Emil!" the prince hears Mathias shout. "Make sure you don't cry, ya hear?!"

The prince's eye twitches. "Why does he still take me for a child?" he irritably mutters under his breath. He watches as his brother lets himself inside the carriage and sits across the prince and his pet.

"Did you get everything, Emil?" his brother asks, ignoring his husband's reminders from afar.

"Yes," he replies. "I triple-checked. Everything I need is packed." While he settles in his seat, he cannot help noticing how his brother's eyes remain transfixed on his pet's idle position, staring out the window in lost thought like a bored dog might on a long journey. He exhales as if in amusement while playing with the red ribbon around his wrist.

Stalling the journey even further, the king insists on giving his brother-in-law one last parting embrace before returning to the castle. The prince's brother rolls his eyes and tells him to make some haste if they are to hope of leaving before the sun rises at high noon.

"I can imagine Mother will already be home by the time we depart at this pace," he sighs, exasperated. "Mathias, don't disappoint me while I'm gone. I can't expect you to rely on me to run a kingdom every second of the day. Impress me, and I just might give you a little reward when I return."

Hearing this, the king's sky-blue eyes light up. "You mean you'll let me go ahead with the ship?"

Lukas clicks his tongue. Apparently, it is not the reward he has in mind. "Again with the ship," he grunts. "We'll see. The purpose of the trip is to discuss trading venues, so if everything goes according to plan, there may be ports opened up to Laciport. Perhaps you'll get your ship then."

Mathias' smile spreads so widely that it stretches along the entirety of his face. He now has something to look forward to besides the return of the two brothers. "I'll take care of everything here, Lukas. The advisors will help me. Don't you worry. Rest easy, too, Emil."

"There's no need to worry about me, Mathias," the prince says and looks in the direction of his pet to distract his attention.

Finally, Lukas shoos his husband away, and the carriage driver snaps the horses' reins. At their pace with guards on horseback flanking them from all sides, the prince estimates they should be in Thursaunia within a week's time without delays. Mathias will not be accompanying them, making the ride significantly smoother and quieter than it would be otherwise. The most the prince thinks on doing to entertain himself is reading some of the books he has packed. Other than that, he suspects the only means of amusing himself until reaching their destination is talking with the other two passengers in the carriage.

"It's going to be a long trip, little brother," Lukas tells him. "If you're tired, you're free to get some rest. I can wake you up when we reach the next stop."

The prince declines. "No, it's alright. I can stay awake," he says as he ironically stifles a yawn. "So where is our first destination?"

Lukas rolls a pristine and detailed map out on his lap and points to their location and the destinations to follow. "We are here in central Crodinia. We will try to make it to the edge of the central province by nightfall," his brother verbally maps out their trip. "From there, we will travel for a few days until we pass into eastern Dotriba. Granted, we cannot stay more than a day there. The plans are to have a group escort us through their borders and into Thursaunia. We will then stop in the north of the alliance. The rest of our journey will take us through the mountains and down towards the southwest. It shouldn't take more than a week and a half if no stalling arises. Any unexpected delays have been already taken into consideration, already."

"Right," the prince nods. It is common courtesy for people to expect some faults on travels, whether, with problems with transportation, weather conditions, or even bandits. He does not expect there will be any trouble, however. The weather is fair and warm, and the royal carriage is guarded by a team of able men assigned by the king, himself. He only needs to concern himself with entertainment the entire way there.

To pass the time until then, the prince advises his pet to take in some of the scenery or rest if he needs to. His mind is too exhausted to read to him, and his brother is not in the mood to listen in on other voices. From this, the morning transitions into the afternoon before the carriage comes to a road stop by a small town.

As the Shadow and representative of Crodinia, the prince's brother takes the opportunity to check on the state of the town until the horses are watered and fed. The others stop to rest or stretch their legs, and the prince and his pet follow. Lukas returns some time later after seeing that the state of the crops are stable and the townspeople in good condition.

"You have a lovely crop this season," he notes to the town leader and thanks him for the gifts. The prince notices in his brother's hands are a woven cloth, a vial of unknown contents, and a glass ornament that appears to have some form of decoration inside. Having no room in the carriage, Lukas places the gifts into a separate chest to be carried in a following cart. The townspeople thank him for stopping by their humble home, and see them on their way. Before leaving, the prince catches the red banners and flags still hanging from some of the lodges. The Red Summer has not yet ended, and here, the people are still paying tribute to their king.

The second in command of Crodinia lets out a sigh as he climbs back into the carriage and blankly looks out the window towards the passing scenery. "All is well here. That's one place we won't have to make note of in the report."

His brother furrows his eyebrows. "Report?" he echoes.

Lukas chuckles. "You didn't think we were just traveling for one negotiation with Thursaunia, did you, little brother?" The prince says nothing. "I'm personally making note of the state of the kingdom as we travel through the roads. A great majority of villages, towns, and cities lie somewhere along the main roads in Crodinia. The ones we will be traveling on need to be inspected. It is important to know if there is a healthy harvest in the fields, livestock flourishing, whether physical health is fair, how well the commodities are holding up, and most important of all, the loyalty of the people." He looks on to his brother who is immersed in each and every one of his words. "Emil, a king is nothing without his people. A kingdom is nothing without its king. Fail to take care of the roots, and entire empires will fall. I know this. I've seen it happen."

"Yes…" The prince's voice trails off. He knows of the event his brother speaks of: the fall of the Altorien Empire. Lukas was there to see it. He lived it.

Though the event happened barely eight years ago, scholars and historians gathered together with the corners of the world to document this moment in history. Before its fall, the Altorien Empire had once been a powerful and growing force from the east, taking hold of trading routes throughout Laciport all the way to Tabrini and leading the race to metallurgy, spice, and textile production. Somewhere along the way, the emperor had a misstep in his reign, a hunger for power that could not be satiated by wealth, alone.

Supposedly it started out simply enough. The emperor sent out requests to open up new ports and roads to those exclusive to neighboring empires and kingdoms, Belethren with Crodinia, Thursaunia with Dotriba, Tabrini with the Otherlands, and so forth. These negotiations were fulfilled and satisfied well enough, but soon, the Altorienese merchants began to overrun the market. It came to pass that many trading companies and markets began to lose business and money. Protests from the non-Altorienese sprung up. Sabotage ensued.

Finally the attacks escalated so far that both sides began to go against one another. The scuffles eventually became violent. Finally, in what was considered the breaking point between peace and royal involvement, a Dotriban ship caught on fire and exploded.

The Dotribans kept strict records of their shipments and orders. There should have not been any explosives on that ship, so when it came time to point fingers at a source, all fingers pointed to the Altorienese, the heaviest producers of gunpowder in the world. It only made sense. There had been aggression between the Altorienese and the Dotribans since the empire demanded a hefty fraction of profits in order to open trade to their cities and merchandise. The Dotriban were never the most patient of people when it came to trade negotiations and were prone to violence. Having heard of the countless numbers of lives brought to ruin from both the explosion and the loss of revenue from destroyed goods, they began to attack. And, as records go, the rest was history.

The neighboring kingdoms were dragged into the already unstable ties. With the growing power of Altorien, things spiraled out of control until even the powerful trading monarchy of Belethren lost its major routes. None but the Dotriban relayed attacks back at Altorienese merchants at first; it was initially something that the other kingdoms thought they would handle by themselves. Reasonable negotiations could have been made within their borders—or so they thought.

When attacks started escalating and targeting Belethrenic ships and cargo, the Tabrinish stepped in to intervene. One by one, like a slew of mangling wolves, the kingdoms jumped in to push back the Altorienese after their allies until it became an all-out war. The Altorienese soon started to claim lands they had taken and began to expand their already enormous empire. For the other kingdoms, it was no longer about keeping trade routes open or peaceful borders, it was about protecting what they had left.

What happened in those final moments of war changed the course of history for the entire world. Coupled alongside the Dotriban and Belethrenic forces, Crodinia and its king were able to storm the capital, lay siege to the capital of Altorien and overrun its streets, supplies, and people. In the climax of the war, Crodinia lost its former king. Mathias took charge of its armies after the death of his father, who succumbed to a mortal wound. Lukas witnessed his passing. It was a blow in the kingdom, but with Mathias' spirit, the soldiers prevailed. Finally, the armies were able to storm the imperial palace and take the head of the emperor. The Altorien Empire thus dissolved with the head of the snake cut clean off and displayed in the main square of the capital city. The allying forces disbanded, returned to their kingdoms, and took with them parts of the scattered empire. Upon arriving back home, Mathias took the crown and rightful place as heir to the Kingdom of Crodinia. Altorien fell, and with it, its last lines of emperors.

All of these events were collectively documented by historians, captains, and generals who witnessed the battles firsthand. The prince was brought up learning about the war through the few letters he received from Lukas and Mathias and in time, his mentors who could teach the official history, too. Being so recent in his lifetime, he knows of each battle that his kingdom took place fighting in and with which allies. He wonders if Leon knows anything about the war that took him from his home and brought him here, and if so, how is it that he can be so dismissal about his homeland being overrun and destroyed by the very people who killed his emperor?

The prince does not state or ask Leon of anything, especially not with Lukas being across from him. War has changed his brother. Though the caring part of him remains, a twisted malice lies underneath that cool exterior, waiting to strike out like a venomous snake. He has seen it happen, the time he killed off those soldiers being the most recent recollection. As much as he wishes it would be the last, he cannot guarantee anything from the Shadow.

"Emil, you look like you want to say something," his brother suddenly says as they continue on the road.

The prince snaps himself from his daze and looks to his brother who has had his eyes on him the entire time since departing from the town. "Sorry," he emptily apologizes. "There was a lingering thought in my mind."

Lukas blinks. "Judging by what I mentioned earlier, I take it you're thinking of the war and the Altorien Empire."

He bows his head. "You know me too much, brother."

"Is there something you'd like to ask me?"

"I…" The prince hesitates. He looks to Leon who appears to be once again staring out the window. It is as if he did not understand a word of what Lukas was saying, but the prince has taught him well. He knows enough Crodinian to read books and draw from them their ideas and messages. His mind is passive yet sharp. Whatever the prince has to say should not be heard by Leon's ears, let alone an Altorienese. "It's nothing," he finally tells his brother. "Just a careless thought, really."

But once again, Lukas knows too much of his dear brother. He knows he is hesitant because of Leon's ability to understand Crodinian, a quality he finds to be somewhat of an inconvenience, but if that is how his brother wanted to raise him, then he will go by it, as well. "You're worried about your pet being offended." He catches a small jolt of movement from his brother's eyes. "Why should you be? He is yours. You've taught him to remember that, have you not?"

The prince is unsure of his brother's underlying meaning. "Yes?" he answers in more of a doubtful question than a confident statement. "I-I mean, I haven't really taught him anything else…" His voices trails off as he comes to the realization that he has just lied to his brother. What he said is not true. His actions have undoubtedly caused Leon to think otherwise. Why else would he have gone after him on the day of his punishment, and why would he forgive him and hide his actions for attacking those soldiers in the capital? The prince feels sick. He cannot fully answer his own questions, yet he still feels an obligation to protect Leon.

Is it because he has been here to offer him companionship, he wonders? Surely, he cannot be that desperate for a playmate. Leon is a gift and nothing more. He owes him and Lukas the world. Leon does not deserve the pity of the prince, yet it remains, swallowing up any pride or authority he might want to express over Leon. It makes the prince realize just how weak he truly is.

Sensing his brother's growing meekness, Lukas stops and eases up on his persistence. This will not be the time or the place to ask him of these things. There will always be another time. "That's good that you've been practicing that, Emil," he smiles. "It's important to remind him that you are a prince and he your pet. So as long as that relationship stays the same, then I will be fine with whatever it is you choose to do with him."

"Thank you, brother," is all the prince can say.

* * *

The days go by like the rest of the journey: visit a town or village here, converse with the citizens and accept gifts. Lukas apparently planned for this ahead of time since he brought along with him an empty cart and plenty of chests. The prince initially thought there were full of gifts to give to the Dotribans and Thursaunians, but now he knows they are for holding gifts given to them from the citizens.

"What are you going to do with them, brother?" the prince asks as they leave the last town before crossing into the Trinity of Dotriba.

"Distribute them among the Thursaunian merchants," he answers. "They will be of no use to us at home. There isn't anything of worth keeping on display, however much I think Mathias would like to keep everything." He sighs. "That oaf is too sentimental sometimes." The prince nods in agreement. "Really, the south has better use for Crodinian furnishings and drapery than we do, I would think. They know how to haggle to the right buyers."

"And what of our trip to home?"

"We will be taking a different route. Rather than traveling the length of Crodinia we will be going westward across the western border of Dotriba into Belethren. Should we receive any gifts up until that point, we will distribute them accordingly. Here's a question for you, little brother: who do you think is the better of the two to buy from, the Belethrenic or the Thursaunians?"

"You're asking me right now?"

"I'm asking you right now," Lukas echoes. "You've studied up on trade and economics. You should know this."

The prince gives it some thought. "Well, if you're talking about the bulk of Thursaunia, I'd say you'd be better off buying from the Belethrenic. They know how to give you a reasonable price while still making profits for themselves. But if it's just the southern part of Thursaunia, then that region would be better to buy from them because they have guaranteed quality and supply—but one would have to factor in what sort of wares are being bought. If it's weapons, definitely the Thursaunians. But if it's fish or spices, then perhaps the Belethrenic."

"Hmm." The prince's brother thoughtfully lowers his eyes as he ponders the answer. Anything can sound intelligible if given the right delivery, but he still takes into consideration how valid those statements are. "You're right about the Belethrenic being a good choice to buy from. They are a formidable trading partner, yet you also pointed out the specific region within the alliance, something that is also important. You should also note that not every part of Belethren is not ideal to purchase and barter with; there are swindling traders, too, and the further into the east you go, the more aggressive they become."

"I never understood that. Is it because of the lack of ports or because of the competition mainland?" the prince asks.

"You tell me, little brother," the Shadow chuckles. "What has happened along the roads in recent years?"

While presented in the form of a question, the prince receives his answer through quick deduction. "It's because of the mistrust and border enforcements due to the war, right?"

"The main factors, correct. There are also changes in shipping throughout the oceans as of late, those mainly being affected by exploration in the Otherlands and all throughout Arbren. And then there's Altorien…"

The prince's eyes wander back to his pet. Still, he appears unmoved and unfazed by the conversation going on, as if it was as dull as eavesdropping on castle servants talking about the weather.

"You're quite fond of your pet, aren't you?" Lukas chuckles, watching his brother eyeing his gift.

"Very much," the prince hopes to shortly reply to prevent further delving into the comment.

His brother brushes his bangs behind his ear. "So, going back to what you were asking me about, who do you think we should distribute our presents to?"

The prince does not hesitate. "The Belethrenic?"

"The Belethrenic," he echoes. "Say that in a more confident voice, little brother. The people need assurance."

"The Belethrenic," tries again in a more declarative tone.

"Good. And I take it your pet responds in the same way?"

The prince only nods this time.

"As he should," Lukas responds to this gesture. "You should never have to doubt his word. A good ruler or master will command reverence and faith in his underlings. I take it you're getting enough practice with my gift?"

"Yes," the prince says without cracking his voice. Is that all his pet is to him, he wonders? That his brother meant to give him Leon to practice commanding? But even then, Leon has not always been completely obedient. He stops, but only in time. He listens, though only to a certain reserve. He is more than just a dog or a bird. He calculates and reasons, and because of that, the prince does not know if he is under complete control. As he has said, Leon is only human, after all.

"Brother?"

"Yes, Emil?"

He wonders if he should ask this question. It will undoubtedly bring upon a dark answer, yet his urge to confirm his reaction boils through.

"What of those who do not acknowledge us as rulers, those who..." He searches for the words. "…fail to demonstration respect?"

He first believes Lukas will deliver a curt and underlying response, but unexpectedly, his brother demonstrates such a sincere expression that it appears more unsettling than a direct face. With gentle eyes and a caressing voice, his brother ensures him that there are proper ways of taking care of such individuals.

"Dearest brother, were I to command respect through aggressive means, that would not make me a good ruler. Our people love us. We have fought and risked our lives to preserve their well-being, and in placing trust in them, there is a better mutual understanding. It is never too healthy to become too suspicious of your own subjects. That can lead to delusion and paranoia, cases that have happened with rulers throughout the course of history. And to those who are unable to recognize that, well, then we just simply have to convince them through other methods."

"Methods?" the prince blinks.

"Yes. You'll come to learn how to conduct them as you assimilate within the inner circles, Emil. For now, you're still a young adult. There is much to be learned. The answers will come with time."

Neither party indulges into the topic anymore. The Shadow dodges a clear-cut answer; the young prince does not wish to know. All the while, Leon stares out the window, blissfully free from the burdens that the Crodinian royalty must carry.

* * *

After traveling for days on the Crodinian roads and passing through meadows and low hills, the royal party arrives at the Dotriban border gate, a magnificent if not intimidating feat of enforced stone walls lined with spikes and impressive pillars. Along the Crodinian side, there are banners displaying the Crodinian Cross. On the other, the Dotriban Trinity hangs in three circles entwined in a wreath of thistle and thorns. It is not the most grand or welcoming of banners, but it does signify a symbol of power.

Upon reaching the borders, once checking with the Crodinian officials, a cavalier presents a scroll of papers to the Dotribans, signed and stamped by Mathias Køhler, himself. Listed are the documented names of men passing through the borders and a request to provide an escort through the narrow strip of the unity. By northern Dotriban respects, the rules state that any representatives of royalty passing through must have appointed records and clearance by any individual ranking from a duke, duchess, or higher. Further down the list, merchants and vendors with domestic orders and checked merchandise are allowed through, while visiting commoners need approval from village or town leaders with signed documents listing the number of days visiting. Extended visits may only be allowed from within the Dotriban authorities, ranking from lords to barons. And even deeper into the rules are other exceptions and footnotes that the prince did not bother to read, never believing he would want to stay in northern Dotriba for so long. It is only expected of this area to be so stringent, as the northern province of the Unity of Dotriba is reigned by none other than the Crimson King: Gilbert Beilschmidt.

"Everything appears to be in order," the Dotriban guard comments as he reaches the last words of the scroll. He signals to his comrades with his fingers, using two fingers and his thumb, something the prince is unfamiliar with. He then looks beyond the escorting soldiers to the royal carriage and walks up to it. Bowing, he explains the following protocol to the Shadow.

"Lukas Bondevik, second in command to the Kingdom of Crodinia, standard procedures require that we examine your luggage, weapons, and headcount of your men, if permitted."

"Granted," the Shadow replies.

The prince watches as the guard returns to his post and mouths something to a higher-looking official. From there, he hands the papers to him, and the examination begins. While doing so, Lukas lets out a small sigh and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "We're going to be here a while, Emil. Northern Dotribans can be painfully thorough."

"I see," the prince says.

Everything runs smoothly until the officials reach the royal carriage. He sees three passengers, though he can only make out two of them. The prince can see that it is logical for him to question the third passenger. It would not make sense for royalty to travel with anyone lesser, but Leon is a pet, and he is sure adding him would not have mattered, list or not.

"Excuse me, Your Highness, but might I inquire why there is an additional passenger on board?"

Lukas calmly replies, "He is not a passenger. He is my brother's property."

Apparently the official is not satisfied with his response he continues to press. "Even so, another person is another person." He looks down the list and makes a quick count down the line. "There are supposed to be fifteen travelers, but I count sixteen."

Again, Lukas monotonously tells him, "He is not a passenger or a traveler; he is my brother's property. Had he been a dog, you would not think twice about skimming it over, would you not?"

This confuses the official. It is common knowledge that Crodinians are not particularly fond of slaves. Of all the kingdoms that divided up Altorien's territory and properties, Crodinia declined any ownership of the former Altorienese subjects and left them to the others. Even if Leon was not Altorienese, the thought of a Crodinian claiming a human being as "property" sounds quite foreign, so the prince and Lukas can understand the confusion.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but what proof do you have that the passenger riding with you is in fact your property? I apologize for suggesting any doubts, but you will be traveling under Dotriban rules and Dotriban escorting policies. We may not be able to hold your 'property' liable should trouble arise."

With a graceful hand, Lukas sweeps his hair back, revealing his cold and calculating blue eyes. He wears a cold, stiff smile as he speaks to the officer. "And forgive  _me_  if you think I doubt the Dotribans' abilities. I think my brother, here, will be able to speak on our little 'passenger's behalf." He looks to his brother with a silent gaze, as if gesturing him to speak to the official.

"Right." The prince clears his throat and gestures to Leon. "This boy is my property, a gift given to me by my brother. He is my pet."

The Dotriban wears a blank expression. "Your pet?"

"Are you deaf?" Lukas sharply throws back, causing the Dotriban to withdraw.

"I can assure you I'm not," he responds with a hint of Dotriban pride still instilled in him. "Word, alone, is not enough to suffice, since Prince Emil's pet is not listed under the Sun King's papers. A quick examination should suffice, and if everything is clear, we will be able to provide you with a proper escort through our borders."

The Dotribans and the Crodinian escorts outside the carriage cannot see it, but the prince can see the way his brother is digging his fingernails into his palm. He wishes he thought this through before arriving at the border to save everyone the trouble and time. As much as he is irritated, however, he does not say anything, giving full authority to the prince.

"Very well. That won't be a problem," he permits. He looks to his pet. "Leon, I'm going to take you outside so they can check you, alright?" His pet eyes him with a worried look, like a dog who has been caught doing something wrong. In an attempt to reassure his pet, the prince places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. They're not going to hurt you. They just have to make sure you're unarmed and safe to travel with us. I'll go out with you."

Leon says nothing as an attendant opens the carriage door and is led out by his ribbon. The Dotribans observe the unusual spectacle, as not only is the prince the owner of a pet roughly his age, but he is an Altorienese one at that. The official mumbles something under his breath as he completes his examination of Leon, some words of which the prince can loosely pick up like "can't believe" and "Altorienese brat." He nearly thinks to let the implied insults pass him by, but his brother is watching, as are his escorts and the Dotribans. If he is to gain respect and retain authority, he needs to earn it, he realizes.

"If you have something you'd like to say about me or my pet, you are more than welcome to say it to my face," he speaks with a firm tone, making sure to look hard into the official's eyes.

Taken aback at his brashness, the Dotriban stiffens and clears his throat. Having been trained for situations worse than this, he does not falter, but his tone is no less former than before. "Apologies, Prince Emil. I just thought it curious that you would house an Altorienese…pet as it were."

"'Curious' is a polite way to put it," the prince remarks, earning a slight hint of expression from the official.

"I mean no offense, Prince Emil. But I should advise you during your time within our borders that the Dotribans do not take kindly to your pet's kind. If you value his well-being, then you would do well to keep him hidden."

The prince takes these words and translates them as his brother might. He is not entirely sincere to foreigners, but he never poses any amount of coldness or arrogance. Confidence and faith in the people, he thinks, and goes with that.

"I trust under your guidance, there will be no need to feel concerned," he says.

"Of course," the official acknowledges. "The Altorienese is clear. You are good to proceed."

"Of course," the prince repeats the man's words and leads his pet back into the carriage. It is only when Leon sits back down that he notices how low his head hangs. He wonders if it is out of fear or respect. He has familiarized himself with the Altorienese custom of bowing one's head to show humbleness and respect. Could Leon have been doing the same, or was there another reason for lowering his head in such a manner? He cannot ask at this time, as the gates are opening, and the carriage is passing through. Like submerging himself into cold water, the prince shudders and holds his breath as he sees the last of his homeland disappear behind him. They are in Dotriban territory now. It will only be for a short while, but he feels a heavier atmosphere simply by being on the other side of the border.

Leon, as if sensing his master's distress, straightens his posture and looks to the prince. He does not speak while Lukas is present, but the prince has grown accustomed to his expressions and knows what he means to imply. With words, he takes Leon's hand and runs his thumb along his palm. The now familiar touch eases his tension and allows him to enjoy the temporary voyage through Dotriba for what it is worth. He is grateful for Leon's presence, and he is sure his pet knows it.

* * *

Having barely gone through the Unity of Dotriba for a day, the only expanse the visiting Crodinians were able to see were the dense needled trees and compacted roads. One interesting quality the prince noticed about the ride was just how smooth it was to travel along the roads. While he rarely saw any forks that led deeper into the northern province, he saw how neat and tidy everything in the north was. There were clean signposts with approximated distances for the nearby towns, even going so far as to list one for the capital located in the center of the three provinces. The trip, itself, went as smoothly as the ride, as there were no confrontations or needs for stops. By the time they reached the edge of the Dotriban border, the prince's previous apprehension wore off.

"That wasn't so bad," Lukas comments as he watches the Dotriban borders pass them by.

"It wasn't," the prince says. He feels more comfortable talking now that they are out of the area. "Brother, are their paths always that smooth?"

Having traveled through Dotriba before, the prince's brother is not surprised by the relatively good condition of the roads. "That normally applies to be main roads: those leading into towns, major cities, and, of course, the capital. There are rougher areas, but you'll find that common in Dotriba—the north mainly. I don't know how much you've studied up on transportation in Dotriba, but records show that the Beilschmidts have prided themselves in maintaining transportation and public services." He makes a small smile. "It's one of the reasons why they were able to get supplies in and out of the provinces during times of need. We are grateful for the aid they gave us during the war."

"Oh. I suppose that would be so, with how stringent they are."

"It gets things finished," Lukas lightly sighs. "Now if only Mathias would pick up a thing or two so things would get done faster."

The prince blinks. "But they're getting done, aren't they?" He cannot recall a time when he heard any advisors complaining about their king's lack of productivity. If anything, he has been praised for doing more than what his father and grandfather did.

"Oh, they're getting done—with my help, of course," his brother chuckles, "but things would go a lot smoother and more efficiently if our king would manage his time like the Dotribans." He makes a short pause. "Then again, if he were like that, he wouldn't be Mathias."

"Quite," the prince smiles. At first, he may have never believed his enigmatic and cold brother would fall for someone like Mathias, yet he supposes love just works in mysterious ways. He wonders if he will get bored being wedded to someone who is just like him. The thought of it is not very enticing.

The trip continues into Thursaunia, the sun still overhead beyond the growing mountains. Lukas tells his brother that they will be passing through them. A valley cuts through the mountains where they will be able to enjoy the Thursaunian scenery. Fortunately, the Alliance of Thursaunia expands its borders further along the east and west than in north and south. With them going into southern Thursaunia, Lukas predicts they will not need more than two days to reach their destination.

"Leon, look at that," the prince breathes as he gazes out the window. "It's like the sky's on fire." True, while he has seen such sunsets from his ocean home in western Crodinia, he has never seen it overlooking the mountains. The setting sun casts a fiery glow that lights the clouds in warm scarlets and golds. With the scenery being so far in the distance, the mountains cast clearly cut silhouettes, perfect for a painter to capture or for an observer to admire.

The prince's pet has since taken his master's word and looks out to see the sight. He does not say anything, nor does he appear particularly impressed or bored with it. The prince wishes he can read his pet's thoughts without needing to look for expressions, as Leon has done a good job of hiding any emotions since partaking on this journey. Nevertheless, he stares at it until the glowing sphere disappears, and the sky falls into a melancholic hue of blues and purples.

* * *

The inn the Crodinian party ends up staying at is situated along a "small" lake as the Thursaunian innkeeper put it. Surrounding the area are pines similar to those found in Dotriba, but accompanying such tranquil scenery and crisp air, they are more pleasant to look at and not as foreboding as the rest of the atmosphere. All around, the inn is a peaceful place unlike the capital inns in Crodinia during the Red Summer. The guests are a mellow bunch, talking softly among themselves and laughing with mirth rather than to mock and amuse one another. Lukas especially takes to this comfort, as he retires early for the evening and looks overhead to the balcony to gaze upon the lake from his window. He is not in such a tense state as he was in Crodinia, perhaps because they have since passed through Dotriba, or it is perhaps because he does not have to put on such a regal face like he does with his own people.

However, the prince is in a different mood. Having been warned by the Dotribans at the border, the fact remains that Leon is Altorienese. His presence will not fare well with the Thursaunians; the guests will undoubtedly become uneasy if they see him rooming under the inn, so as a precaution, Lukas ordered his pet be put into the stables.

"The air is crisp here," he airily sighs as he hears his brother approaching. "How is your pet faring?"

The prince's voice is low. "I don't know why we had to keep Leon with the animals, Lukas. He should be accompanying me and eating under the warm roof." At that, he shivers as a draft blows in from the open window. True, the air is fresh here, but it is unusually chilly despite them being further down south. "Brother, what if Leon catches a cold?"

"He has a blanket, and you gave him food earlier. The stall he was put in is fresh enough that he will not smell in the morning. A beggar would be grateful for those things."

"But Leon's not a beggar; he's my pet."

Lukas sighs again, though this one is more akin to his usual weighted tone. "That he is, but what would you have me do about it? Should I tell all of the guests here that there is an Altorienese boy housed inside this lovely inn?"

Shamefully, the prince bows his head. "I'm sorry," he apologies almost reflexively. "I understand they would be uncomfortable, but I don't see why it has to be this way. My pet didn't do anything. Leon is…he's human. They would not think too much had he been a dog or a cat. Why is it like this?"

His brother's voice falls into a sympathetic whisper. "Oh, Emil…Come here for a moment." He moves to his bed that is slightly larger than the prince's. When the prince sits beside him, he leans his head on his shoulder and strokes his soft white hair. "You haven't seen what I've seen, and I pray to the gods that you never have to. I understand some of the actions I've performed might have made you uncomfortable, but know that I've always been thinking in your best interest.

"You see, little brother, the roots of hating and treating the Altorienese the way they are haven't simply stemmed from the war. It goes much deeper. The same principles go for the rest of the kingdoms and empires: the Tabrinish, the Belethrenic, Dotribans, Thursaunians, Arbrenics, everyone. We are in an unfortunate period where hostility towards the Altorienese is at a noticeable high, and that is not something we can choose to control so easily within Thursaunia or even our own kingdom."

The prince rolls his head up towards his brother. "Then why did you give me Leon, knowing this? I understand I didn't have to choose him specifically, but why an Altorienese?"

The Shadow smiles. "You're a smart young man. You remember."

"To practice my responsibility? To have someone exotic—? I-I don't know. Brother, it couldn't be just those things. Is there not something more?"

"It can be what it is or more than what you perceive it to be, little brother, though I hope you find knowledge in whatever reason I decided," Lukas vaguely responds.

"I don't know…" the prince hopelessly repeats. "I don't know what you want from me. I just want Leon." Frustrated at his lack of answers, he slips from his brother's touch and leaves the bed. "I'm going out for some fresh air," he quickly announces, hoping his brother will not pursue him. As soon as he leaves the room, he knows exactly where he means to go. He walks briskly down the hall of rooms, down the stairs into the warm lounge and tavern, out the inn, past the tired soldiers who have been assigned on watch, and straight around the corner to the stables where the horses are asleep.

"Prince Emil, do you need me to accompany you?" one of the Crodinian soldiers appointed by Mathias asks. All of them are close to their king and his brother, and as such, they do not appear as bothered about their prince's additional traveling companion.

However, tonight, the prince does not need the extra attention of the Crodinians. He only wishes to see one person. "I'm fine, thank you," he tells him. "I'll just be in the stables if something happens."

"Of course," the soldier nods and returns to his task.

With no one looming over his shoulder, the prince is free to run the rest of the way. Leon is sitting in the last stall farthest away from the odor the beasts of burden may carry. He is sitting right where the prince left him, huddled against the corner with blankets draped over his body. The moment he sees the prince, his golden eyes glow as they look up at the stars and faint candlelight.

"Master?" He cannot say any more as the prince wraps his arms around his neck and kisses his forehead.

"I'm sorry. I didn't wake you, did I, Leon?" he quietly asks as he releases him.

"No."

"I wanted to see you. I'm sorry you have to stay here, Leon, but my brother says it's for the best."

"I'm fine, Master. You don't need to worry. I'm used to this."

The prince raises an eyebrow. "How so?"

As his pet will have it, he shrugs, reverting back to the Leon the prince is accustomed to back at the castle. "Traveling to Crodinia was not easy." His voice suddenly stops in a deadly pause. "Some of us died."

"Oh…" The prince backs away but does not let go of his pet. "I'm sorry, Leon."

The Altorienese shakes his head. "It's not your fault, Master."

"No, it is—at least, this is," the prince insists. "You shouldn't even be here. If things were different, you would be eating and sleeping with us right now. If I were stronger, I wouldn't have to fear what my brother or the Thursaunians would think about you. You're not a bad person, Leon, but I'm not in the position to convince others." He bites his lips. "I wonder…maybe one of the reasons my brother let you come along was to make me realize that."

Beneath Leon's calm façade, there is a subtle troubled expression wavering in his eyes. The prince wonders if it is his mind only trying to convince himself that his pet cares or understands, but he is uncertain if Leon's comprehension extends far enough to understand the responsibilities of being a prince.

"I'm sorry," the prince hurriedly apologizes once more. "I shouldn't be talking like this. I must sound like I think ill of my brother. Please believe me when I say he's just doing everything to my best interests, Leon."

"I believe you, Master," his pet softly smiles at him. The prince's stares, stunned. He has not seen his pet smile in some time, now. It relieves him knowing he has not at least lost Leon's smile. "Had it not been for your brother, I never would have gotten the chance to be with you."

The prince's heart leaps. Again, he embraces Leon and kisses his cheek. "Yes, you're right, Leon," he breathes. He can smell the hay on his dark hair; it is a nostalgic scent reminding him of his days with his mother. "I don't regret meeting you. You're the best gift I've ever received, and I don't want you to forget that, promise?"

"I promise, Master," his pet replies and kisses his cheek. "Thank you."

Just then, they hear the voice of the same soldier the prince passed by earlier. "Prince Emil? Are you still out here?"

Startled, the prince springs from the stall and stands himself up. "I'm here."

"His Highness, your brother, wants you back in your bedroom. The hour is late, he says, and he wishes for you to retire."

The prince sighs. "Alright. I'm coming. Just a moment." He leans back down and lowers his voice. "Leon, before I go, do you need anything?"

"No, Master."

"No food, no blankets? It will only get colder tonight."

His pet smiles as if amused by his concern. "I'm more worried about you, Master. I'm fine."

"You're sure, then?"

"I'm sure."

The prince returns to his feet. "Then…I'll be leaving you, Leon. I'll see you in the morning. Please take care."

"I will, Master. Good night."

"Good night, Leon." The prince departs from the stables with a feeling of loss. Though there are enough cases where his pet is not by his side at home in the castle, he misses having Leon constantly by his side. It is not any different than forgetting one's favorite accessory or trusted weapon. Leon is a bit of both to the prince and more.

As the prince returns to his room escorted by a solider, he passes by the Thursaunians and other travelers from foreign lands. How carefree they look drinking their ale and enjoying the comfort of the gentle flames by the hearth, the prince thinks. And this is all because they do not harbor the same blood or likeliness that Leon bears: those trademark narrow eyes, dark hair, and distinct Altorienese accent. He does not wish to be among those people; he never found it particularly easy to socialize with his own Crodinian subjects. Just for a little while, he wishes he could push aside his princely duties and relax for a spell. Even now, there is the looming thought of trying to appease his brother at all times.

"Will I ever be free?" he mouths as he dismisses his escort and enters his room. "I'm back, brother," he announces.

"Had enough fresh air?" his brother asks.

"Yes."

"And did you spend some good time with Leon?" The prince lightly exhales at his question. It should not have come as a surprise that his brother would know what he was doing.

"Yes."

"Good. Then come over here. I've done some thinking since you left."

The prince obeys and sits by his brother's side. Apart from the closed window, it is as though he never left. Holding him close like a doting mother, the Shadow begins to speak.

"You were asking me about why I chose to give you an Altorienese boy as your pet, especially given the time I could have done so." The prince nods, so he continues. "You have to forgive me, little brother. I cannot expect you to know how I go about thinking things through. In your position, it is not entirely possible for you to understand my reasoning, so I will explain my reasons for giving you your precious little gift in more detail.

"The first reason is a simple one: you were turning into an adult, so I thought it best to give you something an adult could hold responsibility for. Your pet may be no child, but considering his initial inability to grasp the Crodinian language and customs, it was no better than giving you a child to care for.

"The second reason is not too far off from the first: you are a prince, Emil. As I've said in the past and may continue to remind you, there may come a time when you will have to exercise your authority. Not everyone within your control will be Crodinian, and not everyone will be particularly fond of you. You need to gain respect and obedience by necessary means. You should know that your Altorienese pet is not in the most optimal of positions to like you right away. You never know; for all he thinks, he could be listening to you out of fear for his own life, and that was instilled from the very first day I gave him to you. But whatever his motivations, so as long as he listens to you without question, you remain in control. Maintaining control may not be easy. It may not be as stable as you might think. It is your job to recognize when such exceptions happen. The sooner you take care of a problem, the better things will fare. Do you understand, Emil?"

"Yes…" the prince's voice trails off. He has many questions that want to burst from his tongue, but he knows there is at least one more reason. He lets his brother continue.

"And the third reason pertains to your character. Think of it what you will, little brother, but I have always been curious as to what person I have raised you to be. There have been others, sure: Mother, Mathias, our father, Mathias' father…As much as they are successful in their own rights, they have different ideals. We are human, Emil. There does not exist one single way to think. I will never be able to completely understand what you are thinking, and so, as a sort of…experiment, I have bestowed Leon to you in order to study your behavior. What sort of ruler might you become? What sort of person, I wonder? The Altorienese has been at the mercy of your every whim. Has being given the privilege of having him as your pet done anything to you? Do you feel different in any way, little brother?"

The prince furrows his eyebrows. Has this what his brother had been conducting this entire time? An experiment? Truly, it does not sound like an obscenely selfish one, at least, not in the sense that he might be harmed, but was it really necessary? Did he lose his trust somewhere along the way?

His heart heavier than before and his desire to seek out his pet again, the prince feels like he is at bursting point upon answering his brother's questions. "…I don't feel as lonely when Leon is with me. I have someone to talk to who doesn't just see me as some high-strung prince. I'm simply Leon's master."

The Shadow thoughtfully strokes his brother's hair. "But what does that mean to your pet?"

The prince tilts his head in thought. "That I don't care about his origins—only that he is there for me when I need him and that I can trust him."

A chuckle sounds from the Shadow's amused smile. "So you trust him. I suppose trust is one of those things that really influence one's loyalty. Oaths and friendships can only go so far if one lacks that. It's interesting that you have such trust with him."

In Leon's defense, the prince speaks out at this. "I don't understand why I wouldn't. Leon's a nice person, Lukas. He's smart and obedient, and he only thinks of my well-being."

"Ah, as he should. You chose a nice pet." Underneath those words, the prince wonders if his brother is only humoring his decisions. He wants to speak out at them, but he can never be too certain what is brother is thinking. In any case, he certainly does not want to misinterpret what his brother might be implying. Perhaps he is genuinely relieved that Leon is such a diligent individual. Convincing himself of that thought, the prince reverts to his humble self.

"Thank you, brother," he says. "Are you satisfied with the way I've raised Leon?"

He breathes a sigh of relief when his brother continues to stroke his hair. "Of course I am. With your method, I could not recommend anything different. You've a kind heart."

"Th-Thank you," the prince repeats with a relieved smile. He feels his brother's lips upon his cheek and kisses him in return.

"We should get ready for bed, little brother," Lukas says and begins to unbutton his coat.

"Yes." The prince does the same and dresses into his sleeping wear. Exhausted from traversing through Dotriba, he soon falls asleep, his fair hair poking out from the thick covers and his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm.

* * *

Long since have the inn's guests gone to rest and the guards taken new shifts. A waxing moon shines its fading reflection out on the lake, casting a brilliant glow in deep blue eyes. He makes not a sound when he approaches his slumbering brother, completely out for the night. Spidery fingers comb through thin silky locks, familiarizing themselves with the innocence harnessed beneath.

This was a big waste of time. He should not have had second guesses about this. There was no mistaking the tone in his voice or the reflection of his heart. He curses himself for being wrong, though it also comes as a relief. Now he has to mend his errors. He will have to be careful. Giving word will draw suspicion and most of all, mistrust. Fortunately, all is not lost. The timing can still be perfect. All he has to do is hope that his brother's memories remain the same. He will be watching from the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laciport: Anagram of "tropical"


	9. His Net

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: Phrases and sentences in italics imply a language other than Crodinian is being used (eg. Dotriban, Thursaunian, etc.).

"Repeat after me:  _thank…you._ "

" _Fank you…?_ "

"Almost.  _Thank you."_

" _Thank you."_

"Yes. That's good, Leon. Let me hear it again."

" _Thank you."_

"He learns fast." Across the carriage, the Shadow is observing his brother teaching his pet some Thursaunian. The language has roots similar to northern Dotriban dialects, making it easy for the prince to pick up in his younger years. For an Altorienese to pick it up, however, is a different matter. The tones are lacking, and there are certain enunciations that do not fall in Crodinian or Altorienese words. For now, the prince is teaching his pet the basics in the case he needs to use them. They have been practicing since they left the inn after breakfast.

"Leon has a bit of an accent, but it's not that noticeable," the prince smiles, stroking his pet's hair as a form of reward.

The Shadow's lips give a tug. "I'll say. Even you were having a hard time learning Thursaunian. It took you, what, six months to rid you of your accent?"

The prince scoffs. "Don't tease me, brother. I'd been practicing Tabrinish before that. You remember."

"Ah, how thoughtless of me," his brother subtly teases him. "Continue. Your lessons are going well."

Given permission, the prince and his pet continue to recite common Thursaunian phrases for the rest of the way. With the weather being fair, the innkeeper said it would not take more than half a day's worth of traveling to reach the southern resort.

As Thursaunian royalty has it, the "resorts" are nothing shy of small palaces. They are complete with all the adorned arrangements of fanciful guest rooms, galleries, ballrooms, enormous gardens, and private lake structures and pastures built for a feeling of solitude and tranquility. In the midst of the changing seasons, the king and his wife often travel between west and east to attend to affairs and enjoy the most of their alliance. Lukas suspects they will not be able to have an audience with the king this time around, but they may be able to meet some familiar faces, so he says.

Regardless of whom they will be meeting, the prince instructs his pet to be on his best behavior. In foreign territories, they are not only representing their positions of royalty but the common face of Crodinia as well. With that mentality in mind, the prince is sure to teach his pet as many polite phrases and proper responses to questions as he can.

As the innkeeper predicted, the sun has not yet fallen over the Thursaunian mountains when the southern resort comes into view. At the end of a winding pathway sloping down is a grand "small" resort situated on an island in the center of a lake. The scenery looks too breath-taking to be created by nature, as the island is leveled at a remarkably pristine angle and structured just right for heavy construction. Leading out to the back is what looks like a canyon from a crack in the mountains. To where it goes, the prince cannot see, as the southern resort bars his view. Complimenting the cool colors of the landscape, the roof of the resort is painted a deep indigo with walls white as marble and shutters and doors coated an ebony black. It is nothing short of beautiful.

"We're going to be staying here?" he asks, barely being able to conceal his excitement.

He can hear his brother smiling. "Yes, Emil. It's here we will be conducting business. Try not to get too carried away. We are still representatives of Crodinia, after all."

"Yes, brother," the prince replies, though he does not sound as genuine in his response. He wonders if they will be given a tour around the resort or even a ride through the lake and beyond the canyon. True, he knows he should not get his hopes up too much, but his childlike desires are still strong. If only he had been but two years younger, he hopelessly wishes and continues to gaze upon their destination until the carriage reaches it.

At the bottom of the winding road, an attendant positioned in front of a team of servants is already positioned in the front, ready to greet the arriving guests. The coachman helps the brothers and Leon out, to which the attendant welcomes them. "Welcome, to the southern resort, Your Highness, Lukas Bondevik of the Kingdom of Crodinia and to Prince Emil of the Kingdom of Crodinia. We hope you had a safe journey getting here and wish nothing but the best time here in the Alliance of Thursaunia."

" _Thank you_ ," the Shadow thanks him a Thursaunian tongue. "You may instruct your men to help with the luggage. Show the horses to the stables once you park the carriages, and show my men to the dining area and their rooms. I take it they're more exhausted than anyone here, and they deserve the rest as soon as possible."

"Will do, Your Highness," the attendant bows and proceeds to give orders to his servants in Thursaunian. In the meantime, a steward leads the Shadow, the prince, and the Altorienese pet past the foyer and out into the veranda where refreshments are prepared. "Please enjoy yourselves until your hosts return. I will be here to provide any assistance at any time."

The prince's pet is already staring at the pile of spice cakes topped with frosting while Lukas asks of their hosts' whereabouts.

The steward clears his throat as if meaning to hide something. "Forgive the inconvenience, Your Highness, but I'm afraid they are, how you shall say, out for a tea party."

Lukas raises his eyebrows just slightly. "Then why have refreshments for us only?"

Almost uncomfortably, the steward replies, "The tea party they are attending is not one that particularly calls for a proper audience. In any case, they will be returning to join you shortly, I can assure you."

Deciding that the steward has had enough, the Shadow dismisses their temporary host and gestures for his brother to take a seat. "Sit, Emil. You must be hungry."

"There are so many sweets…" the prince mumbles as he takes a seat across from his brother. He immediately takes a dainty porcelain plate with a dainty laced napkin and daintily stacks it with spice cakes. He hands this off to Leon before deciding what to help himself to first.

Lukas rolls his eyes. "Roderich always loves sweets, but we're not seeing him today."

"Do you know who, then, brother?"

He smiles. "I think if you search through your memories, you might have an idea."

"Search my memories?" the prince echoes in slight confusion. "I've not been here before. Is it someone I know?"

"Oh, you'll see." Lukas silences himself as he takes a bite of a chocolate pudding roll. He makes a face as he swallows the first helping and goes for some tea. "Gods, even the tea is sweet," he mutters.

The prince chuckles and samples a chocolate-covered wafer. The amount of chocolate available is astounding, considering shipments have to be taken in from as far as Laciport and processed in a separate facility. There are no chocolate stores in Crodinia, but the acquired taste has not yet reached a frenzy among the common folk—yet.

The prince does not much care for the taste of chocolate, but he will not pass up on an opportunity to try some if only because of the rarity back home. He can see his pet can appreciate it, too, watching him politely snack on chocolate wafer after chocolate wafer.

It does not take long for the three guests to finish their refreshments, and it does not take long for their hosts to return. Riding in on horses, they come from the parting mountain road and dismount at the resort gates. The prince sees an attendant take their horses away, and by this time, he can make out two similarly dressed people approaching them. Both sport shortly cut blonde hair with ends that fluff out like golden dandelion flowers. Both have the same shade of green eyes with a tint of teal, a rich and regal color that accentuates the pair's appearance, though it cannot mask their obvious youth. Had it not been for the young man being slightly taller, the prince might have thought they were twins. Closer yet, he sees that the shorter one, barely looking older than fourteen, wears a satin ribbon in her hair. It is not until they leave the sun's glare that the silhouettes of their faces dissolve, revealing themselves to their guests.

" _Hey. Long time, no see,"_ the young man says in a casual tone of Thursaunian unlike that of most commoners.

" _Likewise,"_  Lukas responds with a polite smile.  _"You've both grown up since I last saw you."_

The young man presses his lips together and means to speak when the girl shies away and hides behind him.  _"Hey, hey, what'd I say about being shy?"_ the prince hears him whispering. _"You know these two. You played with Emil when you were younger, remember?"_

Hearing his name, the prince's ears perk up, and he stares long and hard at the girl.  _"Lili?"_  he suddenly recalls aloud.  _"Lili, is that you?"_

Sighing, the young man embarrassingly scratches his head.  _"You'll have to excuse my sister. She's at that age."_

The prince then recognizes the brother. " _Vash…! It's been so long since I've seen you two, I couldn't remember. I'm sorry—"_

" _No, it's fine,"_  he cuts him off. He appears to be more focused on his sister who has still yet to properly greet them. After failing to coax her into saying something, he gives up. _"She's always been like this. I'll say it for her, then: welcome to the southern resort."_

" _Thank you, Vash,"_ the prince's brother continues to smile.  _"And no need to worry about your sister. My brother can still be like that sometimes."_

"No need to bring that up, Lukas," the prince grumbles in Crodinian.

When the siblings approach the veranda, it is then that Vash notices the extra guest. "Who's this?"he asks, pointing at Leon. His speech is still informal but it has since transitioned to a cautious tone. He is even speaking Crodinian.

Lukas immediately steps in. "He's my brother's pet."

Vash wrinkles his nose. "He's Altorienese."

"No, he's a pet. He is under my brother's control. You will not have to worry about anything."

It is clear that Vash does not welcome the new face. The prince remembers the hard-faced Thursaunian having a hard time warming up to strangers, and if it means protecting his sister along the way, he will not hesitate to interfere. It seems not much has changed in eight years.

"Why even bring him along?"

"My brother wanted to let him see the world. He enjoys his companionship."

"But still, this is…Well, the Dotribans let him through, I suppose,"Vash fortunately acknowledges after a while. "Guess that counts for something."

" _Glad you noticed,"_  Lukas smiles. The entire time he speaks, the prince notices how casually he talks. He does not use overly formal diction when speaking with those around his royal standing. It is interesting how that works out. Thinking about it, he has often found that most of the kings address each other by their first name and nicknames, sometimes even downright insulting them, though they have never minded.

" _Thank you for having us, Vash, Lili,"_ the prince quickly addresses before the opportunity is lost.

" _It's just business,"_  Vash shrugs. His sister does not say anything, though she is poking her head from behind out to look at the curious Altorienese pet.  _"Anyway, do you want me to show you around? We've got some time before dinner."_

" _Didn't you just have tea?"_ Lukas chuckles.

Vash scrunches his face and drops the subject, instead leading the guests and his sister back into the resort to commence the tour.

At some point, Vash manages to shake his sister off his back and let the prince and his pet take care of her. While discussing business matters, the prince gets an opportunity to finally speak with her.

" _Lili, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you at first,"_ he apologizes.  _"You cut your hair so short. It's…different."_

Blushing, the shy girl looks his way just slightly. Lili's ability to maintain eye contact does not maintain itself very well; however the prince tries his best to make her feel at ease.

"Do you think it looks…good?" she asks in Crodinian. Her accent is about as rough as the prince's ability to speak Thursaunian, so he does not think ill of her; additionally, she is obviously nervous around him, only adding to mispronunciations here and there. Wondering if her speaking Crodinian is a hint at wanting to practice, the prince answers back in his native tongue.

"It looks very nice," he politely smiles. "I'm guessing it's easier to brush?"

"Y-Yes…" Lili coyly smiles back. Her wavering eyes look in Leon's direction, and she inquires about him. "Your brother said he is…pet? What is 'pet?'"

The prince searches for the correct word to translate into Thursaunian. He has never learned the word, himself, so he needs to find a way to properly explain it to her.  _"He is—Leon is mine. He belongs to me."_

Lili curiously blinks, unsure if she understands him correctly.  _"Like a servant?"_

The prince shakes his head.  _"Like a dog or cat."_

This seems to puzzle the girl more than ever. Perhaps it is out of confusion and a need to clarify or perhaps it is because she does not want to offend their foreign listener, but she continues to speak in Thursaunian for the rest of the conversation.  _"Do you beat him?"_

This troubles the prince, and he looks at his precious pet.  _"I would never do that. He is mine."_

" _But…he is…"_ Lili's voice fades. The prince has an idea of what she means to say.

" _He is my pet, and that is all he is to me. He is not my friend, not my servant, and not my fool. You would not beat your animals, would you?"_

He immediately regrets asking, as Lili withdraws from him and appears to shrink like a mouse.  _"…My brother would…"_ She swallows nervously.  _"I know he was only trying to protect me, but when my dog wouldn't listen or bit me, he would beat it until…"_

Sensing the next few words, the prince cut her off before weighing her down with emotion.  _"I'm sorry. I didn't meant to make you bring that up, Lili. If it makes you feel better, Leon listens to me. I've never needed a reason to beat him, and I don't think I ever would."_

Hearing that offers some relief, though she still looks wary about the fact that Leon is Altorienese.  _"That's good. I'm glad you don't."_

" _Emil."_  Vash is calling the prince to the end of the hallway. They have since gone up the stairs onto the second floor of the resort. _"I'm going to be showing you where you're going to be staying. You get your own room."_

"Oh." The prince takes his pet's hand and brings him along, making sure Lili is not too far behind.

Upon Vash opening the door, the prince can already see the pleasant furnishing of his room. It definitely has a Thursaunian design to it with the warm atmosphere opposed to the frigid regality of his castle. Nearly everything is coated with a light creamy color from the ceilings down to the plush carpet. Mathias might call it too feminine, but for the prince and his understanding of Thursaunian interior design, this is just perfect.

" _It's lovely,"_ he tells his hosts, and they smile.

"Enjoy it while you can, Emil," the prince's brother says. "You're not going to be spending too much time in here."

"Er, right." The prince has to remember that he is here on business, not pleasure. Still, knowing he will have this room at the end of the day is an enticing thought to hold onto during his stay in the southern resort.

" _And this is your room, Lukas,"_  Vash leads them right across the hallway and opens the door to a similarly decorated room but complete with a light blue theme. It is almost comical the way the colors are suited to the prince and his brother, though neither of them mention it aloud.

" _Likewise, it's very beautiful,"_ the prince's brother says, nonetheless, and displays a gratuitous smile.

Vash shrugs.  _"It's nothing. Just something that comes with the place."_

" _That's right, this isn't your home,"_ Lukas comments.  _"Pity, it seems to suit you two. How are things faring back in the west?"_

" _Fine, I suppose. Father's bank is almost complete. When that happens, there won't be anything to worry about."_

" _I'd like to hope so."_

It is then the prince remembers blurbs of memories from the past, back when he used to play with Lili before the war started. Being born of lesser royalty and barely considered an official prince and princess, Vash and Lili Zwingli were often free to travel on the whims of their father while not having to worry about carrying the weight of the kingdom. As Vash grew older, he started to take up his father's trade and dream of starting a large bank within the western section of Thursaunia, a feat that has still yet to be realized even after his father's untimely death.

During Vash's absence, Lili was often passed around as if from one royal babysitter to another. The prince remembers his family's turn being the last, but those days had been fairly pleasant. While shy in nature, he found it easy to get along with her. She was petite and modest, bearing a love for animals and eager to inquire about the curious events and wonders Crodinia had to offer. It was not until when the war started to gear into motion that Lili was withdrawn from Crodinia and locked into the safety of western Thursaunia. Everyone still remembers that western Thursaunia played no part during the war, and while the east offered troops and financial support, its western counterpart never budged.

After the war, when the Alliance of Thursaunia was officially recognized, the west's banks and coffers were dried to relieve the efforts of the battles and relief efforts as a mean of compensation. It was a devastating blow to the Zwinglis, as not only did it halt their bank's construction, it resulted in Vash and Lili's father overworking himself to a crippling physical state. His final years were spent struggling to keep finances afloat all while putting food on the table. Eastern Thursaunia had bled them dry, and before long, their father finally succumbed, leaving a heavy legacy and mountain of responsibility for Vash to bear.

With time, experience, and some partial financial support from Roderich's and Elizabeta's families, the Zwinglis were able to recover and soon were able to resume construction on their father's bank. Once it finishes, it is claimed to be known as the most secure and strongest bank Thursaunia will have ever known—possibly even to the world. This and more have been accomplished by Vash Zwingli, a prospective and able young man hardly reaching eighteen years of age.

The prince wonders if he can ask Lili what kept her brother going up until now. His legacy? His father? Their future? It cannot be just one singular reason, he thinks, though it is nothing short of remarkable at how a single person can accomplish so much in such short time.

Having been shown to their rooms, Vash continues with the rest of the resort until the sun disappears from the mountains and the servants fill the halls with candlelight.

" _It's just about time for dinner,"_  Vash tells everyone.  _"Perfect timing. We just finished with the last rooms."_

" _Um…Brother?"_ All heads turn to see Lili speaking up to her brother for the first time since commencing the tour.

" _What is it, Lili?"_

While nervously tugging at her dress, his timid sister tugs at her dress.  _"We haven't shown them the stables."_

Her brother raises an eyebrow.  _"Really, Lili? Can't we show them after we eat? It's been a long day for them."_

" _But…I guess you're right. I'm sorry…"_

Sensing her distress, Lukas turns to Vash.  _"If you have the time, I wouldn't mind checking out the stables. I've seen your horses. They're very beautiful."_

However, having heard from her brother already, Lili does not seem too fond of bringing up the subject again.  _"It's alright. We can go to dinner instead. I'm…I'm pretty hungry."_

Lukas raises an eyebrow.  _"You're certain, Lili?"_

Both the prince and his brother watch as she starts to lean towards her brother until she is within the safety of his back.  _"I'm certain…"_

Vash sighs and rubs her head, much like the way Lukas does to his brother.  _"Sorry about this,"_  he apologies.  _"It could take some getting used to. Well, if my sister says she's hungry, and if you're both fine with it, we can just go to the dining room as planned."_

" _That's fine with me,"_  Lukas speaks with an even smile. The look on his face as he watches Lili cowering behind her brother appears to remind him of his own relationship with his brother. Thinking of this, the prince rolls his eyes and beckons for his pet to come with him.

"Come on, Leon. I'm going to guess you're not allowed at the table, so I'll just bring you some food and take you to my room. Is that fine?"

Like with every time since entering this resort, Leon nods his head. He has not spoken since getting out of the carriage. However he chooses to respond, the prince tells his brother and Vash of this, and they are more than happy to consent.

"Sorry about this, Leon," he apologizes to his pet. "I wish you could eat with us, but I don't want to cause any trouble around Lili and Vash." He knows his pet will not reply here, so he formulates a quick question his pet can silently respond to. "You understand, don't you?"

As he expects, his pet nods with a slight smile, and they then proceed to the dining room. Having already been shown here, the prince is not as startled by its appearance, though it does not cease to fascinate him. The glittering orbs of glass that make up the chandelier in the center casts a rainbow of lights all throughout the room. The tablecloth, laced with intricate flowery patterns, is made of a fine silk only that looks arranged for only the most important of guests. The dinnerware set out is equal in elegance, boasting light but strong ceramic with gold edges and hand-painted floral designs.

Layout aside, the dishes appear just as enticing: roasted lamb with seasoned bulbs and potatoes lie at the center of the table surrounded by dipping sauces and an assortment of breads; crisp coated potatoes and breaded meats sit as smaller courses alongside a savory palette of foods; and complimenting these is a large bowl of fruit still glistening as if freshly picked.

" _My gods…"_ the prince breathes.  _"It looks lovely."_

" _Thank you,"_ Vash says.  _"Please enjoy."_

As a sign of politeness, the hosts wait for their guests to eat first. The prince eats as quickly as his manners will allow him to, taking note of each dish and trying to predict what his pet might enjoy the most. He knows Leon is not particularly fond of bland foods and tries to avoid getting too many potatoes. He suspects Leon must be tired of them at this point and will not hesitate to try something new; that is one thing he has at least learned about his pet's eating behavior. After he makes a decent selection, he requests a different plate that might be used for piling food on. The dishes presented to the guests are too small and fancy for someone like Leon to use, and he suspects he will not be allowed to bring it outside of the dining room and kitchen. Once presented with a proper plate, he takes some samples as humbly possible and excuses himself from the table.

"Leon, come quickly," he calls to him from the parlor, as he did not think it best to let him watch the others eat. "I don't want to be gone from the table for too long. I brought you some food."

His pet follows him up the stairs and into his room at the end of the hallway. He opens it and finds it already lit by the servants. His luggage is also in his room at this time, unpacked and organized. The prince finds his pet a spot on the study table and presents him with a handkerchief.

"Try not to make a mess, alright?" he quietly instructs him. "I'll be back as soon as it's time for bed." He kisses Leon on his cheek and strokes his hair for a time before leaving. Just before closing the door, he hears a soft voice calling from behind.

"Thank you, Master."

Smiling, the prince turns around and looks at his pet a final time. "You're welcome, Leon." He closes the door and walks with a quick pace back to the dining area. He has since memorized the route and does not have trouble navigating back. However, before he even exits the parlor, going down the stairs, he hears a loud voice cutting through the tranquility of the atmosphere.

" _Give me your best wine! The stronger, the better!"_

The prince's heart drops. He knows that voice. It has not left him since his sixteenth birthday. With great trepidation, he makes his way into the dining room and confirms the speaker's identity.

"Y-Your Highness…"

It is Gilbert Beilschmidt.

" _Look at that, the little prince's finally arrived!"_  the Crimson King widely grins. He is sitting in the prince's chair, but none dared to correct him, not even Lukas.  _"What are you standing there like a ghost for? Sit down!"_

Sheepishly, the prince is forced to take a seat in between Lili and Gilbert. Suddenly he is no longer hungry, but the Dotriban king insists they eat.

" _What's everyone so worked up about?"_  he asks while noisily wolfing down on a piece of lamb.  _"Did someone die?"_

Lukas clears his throat. "Fortunately, no, Your Highness," he speaks in his native tongue. The prince does not entirely know the reason behind it, though he does not have to worry about Gilbert misinterpreting him; the Crimson King while arrogant and teaming with terrible manners, is a master in several languages—Crodinian included. "Your sudden arrival tonight just gave us all a shock. We didn't know you were coming here."

"Hrm? I ha' to," Gilbert responds with his mouth full of bread. The prince wants to make a face, seeing as how the glutton is biting off more than he can chew, but he is not in his homeland. He has to better represent himself and Crodinia. "I waf in ve area an' I heard you were pass'ng fru. It wavn't even less van a day's ride, so I though' I'd stopf by."

The Shadow maintains a pristine smile the prince can never hope to match. "That's very thoughtful of you, Your Highness."

Vash, who has a loose grasp of Crodinian, rolls his eyes and speaks in his native language.  _"Yes, it's a shame we didn't know you were coming here. I might've better prepared the place for you."_

"Oh! Mm—" The rest of the diners watch in awe and disgust as the king swallows his food with a loud gulp. "Shadow, don't let this guy here fool you. He's just like Teacup over there."

Lukas blinks. "Roderich, you mean?"

"The very one!" Gilbert snickers and tears into a slice of lamb. "He acts all rich and prissy, but in reality, he's a cheap stinkwad! His house has a bunch of reused crap. Even his underwear's probably the same one he wore last month!"

Having understood enough of his Crodinian insults, Vash's eyes darken, and he stands up from the table.  _"What are you trying to get at here, Gilbert? Are you saying my habits of saving money aren't good enough for you? Did you forget whose money helped your precious Elizabeta's family during the war?"_

The Crimson King's eyes flash a bright red.  _"Don't bring her into this. I'm talking about you, Zwingli."_

Huffing, Vash crosses his arms _. "Really? And for what reason did you have to mention my history? Honestly, you don't even have a right to be here, Gilbert. You're trespassing on Thursaunian property. If you have no urgent business to attend to, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave right now."_

" _On whose account?"_  Gilbert challenges him, not appearing fazed in the slightest.

" _Mine,"_  Vash speaks with defiance. Not once does he falter in front of the king. He does not use sincerity or diplomacy when addressing the Dotriban king, and even in his position, he does not back down from his piercing red-eyed gaze.

The king snickers, amused.  _"I'd like to see your try, lesser prince. But that would be unfair of me. I know I'd win in a heartbeat at anything you'd name."_

From the corner of his eyes, the prince sees his brother growing impatient. He is digging his fingernails into his palms again. "I believe there is something you cannot win against Vash, Your Highness, if I may be so bold as to make that claim," he speaks through a strained yet even tone.

This has the king listening. "And what is that, Shadow?"

"Preservation. The Zwinglis have been long known to keep relics of not only their family traditions and legacies but their physical possessions as well, some dating back to the unification of the Tabrinish islands. With how your family handles possessions, I wouldn't be surprised if you lost a few things along the way."

This takes a blow to Gilbert's ego, as he finally cracks an expression besides one radiating with arrogance. "That's not true. I can prove it. I have the records to show."

With his sharp nails, Lukas combs his blonde hair. "Oh? And pray tell where are these records, Your Highness?"

"At my castle!"

"Well, we're not at your castle, are we? But until we see proof, there's nothing stopping me from being right. There are records within this resort documenting Zwingli possessions and accounting numbers. What do you have to show?"

"A bunch! And I can prove it in three days' time! It'll only take me that long to go fetch my records!"

"I don't see any records." The prince can tell at this point that the Shadow is playing with him.

"Fine! Then I'll go get them right now!" With that, Gilbert stuffs his mouth with some meats and bread, takes a quick drink from the pitcher, itself, and storms out.

While leaving, Lukas speaks just loud enough for the leaving king to hear him. "It's dreadfully dark out there. Are you sure you don't want to try in the morning?"

"I'm the awesome Crimson King! A little darkness doesn't scare me!" And like that, the main door slams on the resort walls, and the entire space falls into a hushed silence. The storm has passed.

Lukas is the one to break the ringing silence after a good minute of sitting in baffler.  _"Dotribans will be Dotribans. I'd say that could've gone a lot worse. We just have to make sure we get done here within three days so that won't happen again."_

Vash wrinkles his brow.  _"He's going to be back. And if he finds out we've gone our separate ways, he'll track down at least one of us."_

" _That'll most likely be me, but it's better than having your sister and my brother go through that at the same time."_

" _True…"_ Vash looks to Lili who has fallen into compete silence. She does not touch her food while the older brothers continue eating. Having taken notice, Vash speaks to her.  _"Lili, you should finish your dinner. There's still food on your plate."_

His sister shrinks into her chair and lowers her head. The prince cannot see her teal-green eyes beneath her bangs.  _"I'm not hungry, brother."_

" _You need to eat,"_  Vash insists, pushing her plate towards her.  _"The servants took all afternoon preparing it."_

" _But—"_

" _Eat!"_ The table freezes at the sudden outburst from Vash. The prince has long since lost his appetite, and it does not improve at this moment. He watches with pity as Lili forces herself to clean her plate however slowly she makes progress.

Shortly after, Lukas turns to him and speaks in a quiet voice. "Emil, you should finish your meal, too."

He does not need to be told twice. Within minutes, he eats every last crumb on his plate and thanks the Zwingli siblings and the servants for the meal. Like a releasing breath, the tense atmosphere deflates as each diner leaves the table.

After dinner, Vash goes with Lukas to find the appropriate said "records" for Gilbert in the library while their younger siblings are free to go venture into the stables. Lili is more at ease here being surrounded by her horses, and it is here that she is able to open up to the prince alone.

" _I like this one,"_ she says as she strokes a white horse with a gray muzzle. _"He likes to stop and eat the flowers in the garden. It makes the gardeners upset, but he's very friendly. You can pet his ears if you want."_  She gestures for the prince to pet him, though he knows to be wary. Not all horses are used to warming up to strangers right away, and he approaches this one with caution. Luckily, this one is as friendly as Lili claims, and he manages to stroke the horse's velvety ears.

" _You're right, Lili,"_ he smiles.  _"He's nice."_

The little princess offers a soft smile before leading him to a pile of hay. Here she sits down, and with her thick velvet dress, she does not feel the sharp ends poking her skin as the prince does. He withstands the pain out of politeness for now and listens to what she has to say.

" _Emil, what Gilbert said when he was here…He wasn't lying…"_

The prince tilts his head.  _"The part about being able to beat your brother at anything?"_

" _N-Not that. That I'm not so sure about. But when he brought up my brother's living habits…those were all true."_

The prince does not know how to respond to that. He hopes with silence, it is enough of an answer and Lili will respond. And she does.

" _After Father passed away, it was so hard, Emil. So many people took advantage of our savings, and they tricked my brother into nearly losing our house. Servants had to be let go. Some of them were friends of mine. We had to sell off all of the animals—even if it was for a few copper pieces. The furniture was sold, too. Brother told me they were all very precious once, but he also told me we had to do what he needed to in order to survive."_

She clutches her skirt. Her hands tremble.  _"I remember being so hungry. There was hardly any food. Anything we managed to save or get from other families was put towards the bank except for what we could afford for food. Brother and Father had so much faith in it that bank; they were willing to sacrifice so many things to keep its construction going. There were times when my brother was wearing the same clothes for weeks. I-I also…"_

She cannot continue. Her voice cracking, Lili breaks out in tears. She weeps softly and delicately, the tears hardly blemishing her youthful appearance. The prince, not knowing what to do, watches from a distance. He wants to comfort her, though he does not want her to think it rude of him to touch her.

Fortunately, Lili's tears dry quickly. She takes a handkerchief out to dab her cheeks.  _"I'm sorry, Emil. I promised myself I wouldn't cry."_

" _N-No, there's nothing to be sorry about,"_ the prince assures her. His heart is heavy with sympathy. It is no wonder her brother made her finish her dinner.  _"My brother would tell me it's good to let your emotions loose. It's not healthy to always contain things."_ A mere part of his statement is true. His brother has since instructed him to keep a proper face as an adult. But Lili is still young; she can be a child for a little while longer.

Her tears gone, Lili recovers and gets up from the haystack. The prince is eager to follow.  _"Thank you, Emil,"_ she weakly smiles.  _"I'm happy you could listen to me. It's been very hard these past few years."_

" _I can only imagine,"_  he sympathetically smiles back.  _"Thank you for telling me. I'm glad to have listened if it made you feel better."_

Lili nods.  _"It did."_ She pauses.  _"Do you think differently of me?"_

" _No, not at all. You're still the girl I had tea parties and rode horses with. We're still friends, aren't we?"_

The smile she gives him appears different. It conceals something, but unlike Lukas' smiles that deceive, Lili's feels like it is holding something back. She does not give the prince a verbal response. Instead, she nods and looks to him as if silently asking him to follow, and he does.

* * *

The night is no longer young. Vash and Lili have since retired to their rooms, and Lukas has bid his brother good night. In the prince's washroom, a basin of hot water has been prepared. He takes Leon to this place and washes them both for the morning to come.

"Did you like the food tonight, Leon?" he asks as he takes a washcloth and cleans the back of his neck.

"It was different but good," he comments.

The prince smiles. "It is different, isn't it? They like sweet things. And I remember Lili likes that thing…'cheese fondue' I think it's called."

Suddenly, his pet asks something else of his master. "There was a different voice I heard. Who was it?"

"Hmm? O-Oh, it was…it was Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt. Do you remember him?"

"The one I protected you from," his pet says. The prince's eyes freeze on him. He remembers the Crimson King not for the punishment he dealt or the threat he made, but the fact that he thought only to protect his master. The prince has mixed feelings about this. True, his pet is loyal, but he has to remember that the Dotriban king is not someone to trifle with. On top of that, he and Lukas have a strong feeling he will be showing up to find them sometime during their trip, and when that happens, he will need to make sure Leon is on his best behavior.

"Leon, listen to me." He puts the washcloth down and places his hands on his pet's bare shoulders.

"Yes, Master?" the Altorienese blinks his golden eyes.

He takes a deep breath. "My brother said some things to Gilbert during dinnertime. Those things he said may come back to haunt us—not that it would hurt us, but there's a high chance that we will be seeing him sometime while we're in either Thursaunia or Dotriba. When that happens— _if_  that happens—I want you to be on your best behavior. Do not strike out without permission. Do not say anything unless you are told to. And if I were to get hurt because of him, don't—"

The prince holds himself. "—don't protect me. Protect yourself by  _not_  protecting me, Leon. You remember what happened last time. Had it not been for my brother, you would have been killed. We're not in Crodinia anymore. You're not safe. I can only protect you so much." He takes Leon's head and deeply kisses it. "Promise me you will listen to what I have to say."

"Master?" Leon remains staring at him. "Are you afraid of him?"

The prince blinks, stunned. "What?"

"Gilbert. The Crimson King. Are you afraid of him?"

"I…" His voice falters. "I-I don't…Why is this relevant, Leon?"

"I want to know," is his response, and the prince has yet to give him his.

The prince heavily sighs. Staring hard into his Altorienese pet's eyes, he admits his feelings. "…Yes, Leon. Yes, I am afraid of him. But it's not for the same reasons others might be. It's his unpredictability. I can never tell what he's thinking. Beyond that arrogant exterior, there lies a cruel and calculating mind. He's a mad genius, but at the same time, he has extreme loyalty to those he holds dear. I cannot understand him, and for that I fear him. I do not know the point to which he will listen to reason, and if the time comes that he fails to do so with me or even my brother, then I won't know what to do."

"Then I will not be afraid of him."

The prince pauses and stares, baffled by his pet's bold statement. "What? L-Leon, why—? Do you even know what you are even saying?"

"Your brother said it: I will be your shield. It is my purpose to protect you."

"You…?" The prince is at a complete loss for what to think. He barely remembers the statement, himself; it happened so long ago. "Leon…that was before I even taught you Crodinian. My brother told you that on the day we met. How could you have remembered that?"

He shrugs. How typical of him. "I remembered everything I was told if it meant serving my purpose to you."

The prince raises an eyebrow. "Is that really it? You didn't even know what he was saying."

"I remembered it until you taught me the meaning of the words, Master," Leon claims, unwavering. "You taught me well. I am grateful."

"Thank you…?" He is speechless. He has known of Leon's ability to learn Crodinian quickly, but never did he expect him to retain so much. Does he remember other things people said about him before he learned, he wonders?

"Master…" Leon turns around and wraps his fingers over the prince's pale hands. They are still slippery from the soap still bubbling on their skin, yet Leon kisses him regardless. "I love you. Let me protect you if I must—not just from Gilbert but from anything that comes in your way."

"Oh Leon…" The prince wonders if his pet is just being naïve. He surely cannot protect him against everything there is to fear, and what will happen when the time comes that he will no longer be able to do that for him? Leon cannot hope to understand it. It is a hopeless claim for him, but the prince has the feeling he will not back down from it. His heart appears set on his decision.

So, he humors him. "Alright. I'll give you permission. But it can only be on my command. I love you, too, Leon, but I can only protect  _you_  so as long as you are under my control."

He is not sure to what his pet means in context of his words. He loses himself when his pet kisses his cheek and nuzzles his hair the same way he has taught him. "I know, Master." His tongue drips with a sweet, sticky voice like honey luring an unsuspecting fly. "I know."


End file.
